Trichophilia
by 2old4fanfic
Summary: From childhood, Edward has been attracted to women and girls with extremely long, dark brown hair. Some might call it a fetish, but it's something he can't explain. What will happen when the person who triggered his Trichophilia returns. One of my MEET THE MATE entries
1. Chapter 1

**Trichophilia**

Summary: Trichophilia: 1. A paraphilia in which one is sexually aroused by, or extremely fond of, human hair. 2. Any hair-related fetish. Edwards' girlfriends have all had one thing in common; super long brown hair. It's been his obsession since childhood. What happens when the girl who first sparked his Trichophilia returns?

 **Chapter 1**

At five and a half years old, Edward Cullen was in love. His kindergarten teacher noticed first. Pointing to the crayon drawing of two stick figures holding hands, one with short red hair and one wearing a white dress with long brown locks that reached the ground, all surrounded by tiny hearts, she asked, "Edward, is that your mom?"

Edward looked up at her as if she'd lost her mind. "No, you can't marry your mom! That's my babysitter."

Every child was happy at the end of the school day, but none more than Edward. He bobbed out of line, looking for her face, trying his hardest not to break out of the queue to run to her faster. Yesterday she'd worn those big sun glasses, her long brown hair blowing across her pale skin and red lips. The short jean skirt and the striped tights stretching up her legs were his favorites. His favorite-favorite was when they both dressed up for Halloween, her hair wrapped in two buns as Princess Leia, he in a furry costume she'd made with a hooded vest and satchel so he could be his favorite Star Wars character, Wicket the Ewok. He wanted to wear their costumes every day, but she told him, "Then it wouldn't be special."

He was too shy to tell her that every day with her was special. As soon as he spotted her, he'd yell "Princess Leia!" She'd kneel down to give him a hug then hold his hand out to the parking lot.

He held his drawing carefully to give to her, both gift and confession. A while ago her ex-boyfriend had come by the house on a black motorcycle. His worn leather jacket and black mustache scared Edward but she'd yelled at the man on the motorcycle and told him not to come back. Edward needed her to know that he'd be her boyfriend, her friend-friend, her everything.

But she wasn't there. Among the moms, grandmas and nannies picking up his friends stood his father, looking out of place in his blue scrubs.

Edward stalled, looking to either side, hoping she'd be running down the sidewalk, like she'd had two other times, saying "Sorry Ewok, my truck wouldn't start!" Catching her breath she'd hug him, asking, "Will you forgive me?"

Silly question. Of course he'd forgive her. He loved her.

No one was running up the sidewalk or standing by the car. He stopped in front of his father. "Why are you here?"

"Your sitter had an emergency. Let's go."

Turning to the lot, his father started walking to the car.

Edward caught up, his hand stretched out. "You're supposed to hold my hand." His dad shouldn't be picking him up from school if he couldn't remember a simple rule. Sighing, he consoled himself with the thought that Princess Leia would be back tomorrow or at worst the next day.

But she didn't come back. The next day and for the rest of the school year, a white haired woman with soft doughy hands held his as they crossed to the parking lot. This new babysitter didn't even know what an Ewok was.

 _Eighteen Years Later_

For some reason his mother felt his two week summer break was the perfect time to scan all their old photographs into her computer. She was babbling over dinner last night about photobooks one of the women in her office had made. Edward imagined endless embarrassing moments; since he was an only child, without vanity he expected most of the photos were of him and his childish exploits. Some pre-work had been done, Esme's neat print labeled several folders. He couldn't help but open the one labeled 'Girlfriends'. As he flipped through the images, he became conscious of a theme running through all his beaus. Every single one had long, brown hair.

He'd started dating Alice when they were both 15. Listening to music in her room, he enjoyed brushing her waist length brown hair, as much as he enjoyed kissing her. They never got any farther. For her 16th birthday her mother took her on a shopping trip to New York City where she also got a makeover at some famous hair salon on 5th avenue. As soon as Edward saw Alice's chopped short hairdo, he dumped her. He probably should have waited until they were home from the airport.

Freshman year he was locked out of his room by a 'busy' roommate and spotted a flyer taped in the dorm hallway for a poetry slam. He wasn't much for poetry but was captivated by a poet, Victoria. She was dressed in black from her Doc Marten boots to her torn and pinned-back-together-with-safety-pins mini dress. He ignored her clothes, the barbed wire tattoos around her arm and neck, the two dozen piercings, too enraptured was he by her almost black brown hair that swept down in waves to her ass. Again, playing with her hair, creating elaborate braided hairstyles was their foreplay. Victoria didn't have a job, didn't go to school, yet seemed to have unlimited funds. Six months into their relationship she called Edward, ranting that her mother was going to 'cut her off if changes weren't made.' When she pulled up at Edwards' dorm, he recognized the BMW convertible, but not the red haired woman stepping out of it. He couldn't look at her face, he only had eyes for her long hair—hair that was now the wrong color.

"She made you dye your hair?" He reached out a hand but couldn't bring himself to touch it. Victoria wrapped herself around Edward, apparently not noticing that he didn't return the embrace. He could see the top of her ear, for the first time, without a single earring.

"She was going to take my car and stop my allowance. She made me go back to my natural color. I look hideous!"

"You do." Edward pushed her away from his body. He didn't realized what a diligent waxer she was, he'd never noticed a single red thread in her 'carpet.'

"What?" Victoria stared at him, her mouth hanging open. It did not improve her look.

"I can't," Edward backed away, then turned at a full run to his dorm, shouting over his shoulder, "We're done!"

When he met Jessica at the gym, he was careful. As a pre-med major he didn't have much spare time; he didn't want to waste it on a girl who would only desecrate what had attracted him to her in the first place. Standing on the elliptical machine next to the treadmill she used, he examined the part in her hair several times over the course of three weeks to make sure her stunning brunette locks were not chemically created. Satisfied, he invited her to join him at the juice bar.

"Spinach, greek yogurt and guava are excellent for your hair," he said in what he hoped would be a conversational tone after he ordered a smoothie containing all of those ingredients.

"So's salmon, but I'm not getting that in my drink." Jessica shook her head, the waves of hair swishing around her. "Do you think I need it? Don't you like my hair?"

"I love your hair." He took her question as an invitation, and he stroked from her scalp to the soft ends, his cock responding as if he were stroking her bare skin.

Smiling, she bent her neck back, giving the illusion of an extra half foot of hair.

"Would you ever…" He didn't even like to say the word, but he had to know. "Cut it?" When she didn't answer, he filled in the silence. "I mean, if you were going to donate your hair for 'Locks of Love' or something?" She still looked confused, so he explained. "It's an organization that collects hair to make into wigs for children with diseases that cause hair loss."

"No." She smoothed back her hair with both hands. "I've worked too hard for this hair and this body to just give it away." She pushed out her, admittedly, very nice round breasts, running her hand down from her head to her ass. "Don't you think?"

He couldn't think, he could only feel that at last he'd found the perfect woman for him. She was never going to cut her hair. He didn't mind the hours she spent in the gym, at least it gave her something to do while he was studying. She was also extremely flexible, allowing for several sexual positions where he could achieve penetration while holding onto her hair with both hands. Those stolen hours were bliss.

It happened on a Saturday. Running through the park Jessica, wearing a hot pink sports bra and tiny Spandex shorts, ran slightly ahead of him, the better for him to appreciate the sway of her high ponytail and tight thighs. Stopping for water they watched a pregnant mother pushing a stroller with a sleeping toddler inside, the woman pausing to cover the boy with a little blue blanket, her enormous stomach bumping into the stroller.

Edward was about to mention how sweet the scene was but Jessica spoke first. "Disgusting, ugh. I can't watch that." Jessica turned around and stretched slowly, Edward thought, needlessly arching her back so her boobs was better displayed.

The mother and the stroller continued down the path. When Edward was sure they were out of earshot, he asked Jessica, "Don't you want to have kids?"

"You're kidding." She slapped her six pack abs. "And ruin all this?" She cupped her breasts. "And let these get all saggy? No way, no how."

He waited until the next day, to see if he could rid himself of the dream of little brown-haired children and a mother who knelt down to hug them, before he broke up with Jessica.

He flipped over the last picture. Angela was a fourth year med student specializing in anesthesiology. He'd been careful, examining her hair, pointing out small children and pregnant ladies to a favorable response, and inquiring delicately how she felt about short hair.

"I grew up on Hawaii, and I always loved the long hair of the Hula dancers. I used to Hula when I was little."

Which led to a request for an authentic hula dance, which involved her wearing only a grass skirt and a few flowers, her sensuous long straight hair skimming her hips as she danced. That was one of the more erotic moments of his life, not captured in any photograph but burned in his memory. Angela could cook too, roast pork and at least ten dishes involving pineapple and/or macadamia nuts. She was perfect, until that Saturday.

She buckled her seat belt and waited until he was in the car. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." Edward beamed. He'd bought tickets weeks ago, as soon as he'd heard about the showing of all three of the original Star Wars movies, in the new theater with the comfy seats. It wasn't easy to clear the day so they both could go, but he'd begged and bribed people as needed to make it happen. He'd wanted to wrestle up some costumes, but that would have ruined the surprise. He brought tee-shirts they could slip on. Hers had a picture of Princess Leia holding a weapon with the words, 'I don't know where you get your delusions, laser brain!' Edward's shirt looked like Chewbacca's chest with an ammo belt slung across on the diagonal. He intentionally left his hair extra wild for the event.

"I'm kind of hungry babe, does this surprise involve food?"

"Sure thing Princess."

He couldn't wait. There would be a short intermission between each film with food: In the morning, Luke Skywaffles, in the afternoon, Han-burgers on Obi-buns and Frozen Yoda-gurt and Wookie-Cookies for dessert.

As they drove past the banners hanging outside the theater, some people in costume already lined up, Edward smiled waiting for her reaction.

Angela looked up and down the sidewalk. "Can you believe these weirdos? I don't know what anyone sees in those movies, like _grow up already_ people."

It had been a few months since the Star Wars debacle. Edward had poured himself into his studies to the point of exhaustion, benefitting his GPA as well as his sympathy quota from his mom, who was outdoing herself with breakfast making cinnamon buns, French toast, bacon and omelets. His father had less sympathy, having done the same when he was in school, except according to Edward's dad, medical students 'studied 48 hours a day, 366 days a year, without these pansy breaks' such as Edward was currently enjoying. He ignored his father's harrumphing at all the carbohydrates on the table, and focused on consuming a few thousand calories dipped in syrup. He wasn't paying attention until the tail end of his mother's story.

"She looks almost exactly the same as she did when she was Edward's babysitter. After all these years she comes back to—"

"Wrahat diggh—"

"Edward, don't talk with your mouth full!" His mother patted her mouth with her napkin. "That's disgusting."

Grabbing the freshly squeezed orange juice Edward took a big gulp to clear his throat, but the maple syrup made the orange juice taste toxic. His instinct was to spit the mouthful out but he forced himself to swallow, then slurped his coffee to offset the sugar overload. His mother was already rambling about a new trail clearing project her 'Friends of the Parks' group was sponsoring.

"Mom, were you talking about Mrs. Connor?" Memories of squashy pale hands and big flowery dresses filled his mind. Surely this was the babysitter his mother was talking about, the other was too much to hope for.

"No, Mrs. Connor never left town, she still lives in the same house."

It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out 'Princess Leia is back!' but he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of his parents. Really, he thought, how many twenty three year olds still harbored a secret crush on their babysitter?

"She opened a health food store, all organic. That's where I got the maple syrup."

"It's good." He picked up the maple syrup bottle, hoping there'd be a tag with the stores' address. There was a small sticker that read $15.99. "Comes from Vermont."

"Yes, yes it does." His mother took her empty plate and stood. "I need to get this cleaned up, I have a meeting—"

Edward cut her off. "I'll take care of it."

"Who are you and what have you done with my son?" Esme put her hand on his forehead. "No fever."

His father looked up from the last of his omelet. "Es, the boy finally offers to do some dishes. Let him."

As she moved to leave the room she said to her husband, "Feel free to jump in and help Carlisle."

Carlisle laughed, rising from his seat with his coffee mug in hand. "I wouldn't want to diminish his contribution. Clean away Edward."

Stacking the dishes on the counter, Edward finished the last piece of French toast folded in half in his hand, dipping the corner into the remnants of maple syrup left on his plate as he refined his plan. As soon as his mothers' car left the driveway he started searching through her stash of plastic bags under the sink, hoping that one held the receipt. As he looked he realized, _Organic_ food store—probably not using plastic bags. In the pantry his mother had a stash of reusable grocery bags. Rifling through the totes there were birds, barns, an American Flag, but nothing from an organic food store in Forks. He felt like slapping himself. He took out his phone and punched in a quick search. In a second he had an address for "Forks-Full of Goodness Organic Foods."

Slipping his phone into his pocket he picked up his keys from their hook and moved towards the backdoor.

His father had come back into the kitchen and was refilling his mug. "And where are you going?"

"I, uh, have to get something in town." He wasn't stupid enough to explain to his father that he thought maybe his love for his former babysitter was screwing with his ability to maintain an adult relationship and that he was going to see if she wanted to, if she wanted to… he wasn't even sure what he wanted to do with her. What if his mother was just being polite and she didn't really look the same? In any case, he needed to find out. Maybe she'd put some teen girl mojo on him and seeing her middle aged self would cancel out the spell. "I'll be back soon."

"I don't think so." Waving at the counter and table, Carlisle said, "You told your mother you'd take care of this. Now, chop chop."

Was their little downtown always this crowded? Edward couldn't remember having to drive for so long to find a parking spot. He'd driven past the tiny store with the freshly painted sign but there wasn't an empty space on the whole street. Maybe this was an omen. He'd been talking himself into and out of the idea the entire drive. She'd been a senior in high school, so at most she was thirteen years older, possibly twelve. That was far from an insurmountable number. Maybe it wasn't her hair that he wanted, maybe it was the whole package; her sweet smile, loving disposition. She'd taken him seriously when he read to her, never let him just win at chess, patiently and seriously answered his questions, baked cookies for him, held his hand during thunderstorms. Maybe that was just because she was a good babysitter, but he had to find out if there was something else. He'd just decided to circle the block one more time before abandoning his mission when he saw her. He couldn't help himself and stomped on the brake, the car squealing to a stop in the middle of the street. He watched as she walked carrying a box, her long brown hair blowing in the wind behind her, denim shorts showing smooth bare legs. He could only see her from the back but he had no doubt from her stride that this was his Princess Leia about to cross the street. He'd be able to see her face in another second and—

HONK! HONK! The driver behind him expressed his displeasure, giving Edward the one finger salute, forcing him to move his car. Edward searched his rearview mirror as he drove, one hand pulling his red hair, but his Princess was gone.

Three blocks over he finally found room to park. He walked past store after store with their goods displayed all over the sidewalk. It was some kind of 'Shop Local Saturday' thing, now he remembered his mother mentioning it. The streets were packed with shoppers strolling lazily, conspiring to block him from his destination.

"Edward. Edward!" He recognized the voice of Alice's mother. She was still trying to get the two of them back together, but last he'd heard, Alice was living in New York City and going by the name of Alan. He was fairly confident Alice/Alan's mother didn't know.

He nodded his head as she babbled, until he couldn't take it anymore. "Yeah, um. Say hi to Al when you see…Al."

Keeping his head low he avoided talking to any other neighbors, former classmates or former girlfriends and made it to _Forks-Full of Goodness_. He decided he would not comment on the name, maybe all the good names were taken when she incorporated her business. A huge dreamcatcher hung on the door, which was propped open by a burlap sack marked 'organic potatoes'. The shelves were crowded with jars of honey and honey comb, handmade soaps in pastel baskets, jam jars covered with squares of gingham and tied with twine. He had no idea there were so many combinations of chutney, from where he stood he could see mango pineapple, ginger peach, apple guava—

"Is that my little Ewok, all grown up? I'd recognize that hair anywhere!"

He smiled, savoring her sweet voice, but stopped himself from turning around. This could be the moment that changed his life, and he wanted to savor it. How many people meet their soul mates at five and a half? This was momentous.

He turned, his arms out to greet the love of his life who was a very round woman in a long batik pattern dress with black cat glasses and short purple hair. She had her arms out too. "Give me a hug Edward."

He wrapped his arms around her lightly but she gave him a good, solid hug, the kind he'd get from his mother after she hadn't seen him in a few weeks. It felt good but disproportionate. Their last hug they shared he only reached her waist and now her head barely reached his chin. "Princess Leia?"

"Oh, no one's called me that in ages." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the back of the store. "I think you can start calling me Renee. There's someone I want you to meet.

Setting muffins into a basket on the counter was teenage Renee's clone, the girl he'd seen on the street. Her eyes were brown instead of Renee's blue, but by every other measure it was if his babysitter had walked out of a time machine.

"And this is my daughter, Bella. I'm sure you know by now, she's the reason I had to leave. This town was very narrow minded eighteen years ago."

Struck stupid, Edward could only stare.

"Baby, this is Edward, the boy I told you about, I was his babysitter. His mother, Esme, was in yesterday."

"Sure. Hi." The girl looked Edward up and down, and after she placed the last muffin in the basket reached her hand out to shake his but he didn't reciprocate.

He still couldn't bring himself to speak much less move.

Bella pulled her hand back and picked up another container of muffins. Nodding towards Edward she asked her mother, "He's the one in medical school? Or was that someone else?"

"Of course that's him." Renee dropped his hand to turn some jars so the labels all faced the same way. "Bella does all the baking, and she makes the strawberry and cherry conserves. We had quite a business in Arizona."

A trim man with a graying mustache wearing a khaki uniform appeared from the back of the store, carrying a box. "Ren, where do you want this stuff."

"Charlie!" Renee grabbed the man by the arm, dragging him towards Edward. "This is the little boy I used to babysit, remember you rode past his house once."

Edward remembered wanting to hurl rocks at the evil man who made Renee cry. His brown hair was receding leaving a sunburned crescent of forehead that extended halfway up his head and wrinkles fanned from his eyes, but no doubt this was the same idiot that broke his babysitters' heart. How is it that he has a place in her life, while Edward was the awkward outsider? At least mustache man was still holding the carton, meaning Edward didn't have to reveal that he had no intention of shaking the hand of the man that took his Princess away from him.

"Yeah, hi." The man turned away from Edward. "Ren, my shift starts in half an hour. Do you need anything else before I go in?"

Edward looked more closely at the man, noting the police insignia on his shirt. The irony that this miscreant was a police officer was—

"Charlie is the new chief of police." Renee smiled, still holding the man's arm. "Isn't that crazy, that we wound up back here!"

Crazy wasn't the word Edward had in mind. Unjust, certifiable, ironic, inconceivable—

"Babe, I got to go." Charlie kissed Renee's cheek and put the box on the counter. "B, figure out where this goes."

"Sure Charlie."

Charlie stopped, and stared at the girl. "Dad."

"Ok, _Dad_." Bella rolled her eyes and began opening the box.

"Bella wanted to take summer classes, but I think she needed a chance to settle into Forks, don't you think?" Renee took a quick breath then began again. "That girl is always studying, I tried to tell her that life isn't all about books. She graduated early from high school you know."

"I did too." Edward glanced at the girl, who was loading her arms with candles.

"He speaks." Bella brushed past him, barely looking at him. "I was beginning to think you were mute."

"I just talk too much." Renee eyed Edward. "This is where you're supposed to say 'that's not true' or some other polite lie."

Edward didn't know what to say, "Oh, I…"

"Just teasing." Renee picked up one of the muffins, pushing it into his hands. "Try this. If you thought I was a good baker..." She rolled her eyes and nodded to her daughter.

Bella shook her head, still lining up candles. "Baking is just chemistry. Use the right ingredients, measure carefully and pay attention to the recipe."

There was something about her no nonsense tone that appealed to him. Girls were always trying to get his attention, after all he was a medical student from an affluent family and fairly good looking to boot, but this girl barely acknowledged he was on the same planet. Feisty- that was the word. She was smart, she could cook, she had the hair—all in all she really was perfect for him. He reached over to the box of candles and carried it to where she crouched, realizing too late that the shelf was full.

"Yes, I would have brought the box myself if I wanted more." She took the box from his hand and folded in the flaps, placing it out of sight behind the counter. "Mom, what else?"

"Baby why don't you take a break? I'm sure Edward wouldn't mind showing you around town."

"I don't know that he can spare the five minutes." She stood and stared at him, her brown eyes trying to convey a message he couldn't decode.

Clearing his throat Edward tried to make a better impression. "I'd be happy to. There's a coffee shop—"

"Coffee Corral? I was there yesterday." Bella pulled a fluffy feathery thing on a long stick from behind the counter and started dusting the chutney.

"Bella Marie, those jars did not get dirty in the half hour they've been sitting there." Renee took the duster from her daughter's hand and pushed her out towards Edward and the door. "Don't make those child labor people come after me. Go."

"Mom." Bella crossed her arms.

"Now you're messing up the energy in the store. No arguing, now I'm going to open some essential oils to balance the negativity. Maybe you need a Reiki massage-"

Bella took off towards the door, waving her mother away. "I'm going."

Edward looked at Renee, but she was shooing him out the door as well. He tripped over the bag of potatoes in the doorway and looked up and down the sidewalk as he recovered. Bella was at the corner crossing the street. He bounded a few quick paces until he was next to her. She didn't say a word until they were halfway down the next block.

Bella stopped and turned to him. "Okay, she can't possibly see us. You can go about your business."

"I don't mind showing you around."

"I don't need to be shown around. I could hold my breath and make it around half this town. Your Dudley Do-Right routine is done. Go back to wherever you came from." She stepped around him and continued down the street.

Edward followed, dodging the tables set up on the sidewalk, a trash can and a stroller, trying to keep up with her as she wove through the crowded walkway. "Maybe I want to get to know you. You don't know anyone in town, right?"

"Nor do I plan to. I'm off to finish college, then medical school. I have no intention—"

"You can't just assume you're getting into medical school, first you—"

"I graduated high school in two years, I got a perfect score on the SATs, 99th percentile on the practice MCATs I took last year. I will be going to medical school. I will not be wasting anytime establishing relationships in this silly little town. Understand?"

She strode away.

This was some sort of nightmare, Edward determined. The object of his obsession had morphed almost completely from sweet teen to hippie earth mother. The villain got the girl, and their offspring was beautiful, there was no doubt, but where Renee had been all sweetness and gentle smiles, this girl had a sharpness he could still feel scarifying his skin. Her scorn for him couldn't be clearer, and yet…she looked like the girl he'd been trying to find his whole life.

* * *

 **AN: This was one of my entries in the Meet The Mate** contest, the first Fanfic contest I've ever entered. I enjoyed the feedback. This story has a couple of chapters written, but I won't start posting them until I've finished the story.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

.

* * *

Edward had been distracting himself with naming all the bones in the skeletal system, then the parts of the nervous system, then the digestive tract but as the slapping of his sneakers on the wooded path settled into an hypnotic rhythm her words kept coming back to him.

 _Graduated two years early._

Slap, slap, slap

 _Perfect score._ He'd only missed one question on the SATs. His answer wasn't wrong, just a different interpretation of the question. He sent the company that compiles the test a letter explaining how his answer, while more unusual an interpretation, was just as valid. They stuck to their narrow 'best answer' policy, which he felt only reinforced the hive mind thinking behind all standardized testing, but to no avail. His parents stopped him from taking the test again, but now he wished he had.

Slap, slap, slap, faster until he was sprinting.

' _98_ _th_ _percentile on the practice MCAT.'_

He stopped, leaning over with his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath. She had to be making that up. He'd gotten 98th percentile on his first practice MCAT which was a fantastic score, a super score. On the actual exam he scored just shy of perfect, in the 99.9th percentile score after a review class and months of studying. His peers had been jealous when he got the highest score in his school. He was used to being the best, the high-scoring, award winning, head of the class. This bit of a girl couldn't have, no, not possible. Ok, possible, but improbable. His mother never said…That was it, his mother must have mentioned his score when she met the girl and the girl was teasing him. He felt better, wiped his hair, dark and wet from sweat and the drizzle that had begun while he teased out the riddle of this...girl. He started back home.

Slap, slap, slap.

' _Silly little town?_ '

Slap, slap, slap.

" _Dudley Do-Right'_

Slap, slap, slap.

Really, why was he worried about that girl, when it was his mother who was obviously delusional? Renee looked nothing like the magical babysitter in his memory, except for her smile and the hug. He would have passed her in the street without a second glance. Was his mother just being polite or did she really not see the difference? This could be a sign of dementia. He'd have to review the symptoms later before he brought it up to his father, although that might not help. He always found his father blind to mother's faults.

Slap, slap, slap.

At least seeing Renee in the flesh erased his fantasy of her as his soul mate. She'd had an entire Edward-free life while he'd been trying to recreate their connection. She'd happily gone on, most likely forgetting him the moment she left this stupid town.

Slap, slap _, splash, splash._

It was raining in earnest and he felt the mud splatter up the back of his legs with each stride. By the time he made it to the laundry room at the back of the house, there was a trail of mud from his sneakers, up his legs to his running shorts, compression shorts and the bottom of his tee shirt. Dropping his shoes he stripped off his socks and outer shorts depositing them directly into the washer. He turned his shirt inside out and used it to wipe down his hair, arms and legs then balled it up and made a free throw so it landed on top of his dirty clothes. He heard his mother coming in talking, as usual, at the backdoor. She was probably on the phone planning another meeting or charity event. She'd seen him in his compression shorts many times, so he walked into the kitchen, planning to grab the muffin Renee had given him to eat before he took a shower.

His mother was not alone. She was saying, "I really wanted to get these all organized before—Edward! Put some clothes on!"

Renee and Bella stood on either side of her. They'd been looking at the photographs of him that covered the kitchen table but now they were staring at him in the flesh and a little bit of black spandex fabric.

Renee covered her mouth, laughing, "Oh, some things never change! He used to run around in his underwear all the time!"

"These aren't—" Thinking better of explaining the not underwear nature of compression shorts, Edward decided just to escape, shuffling sideways, hands in the fig leaf position until he was past the giggling females. He ran directly upstairs to his bathroom, turning the shower to maximum power so the rush of water would drown out the laughter still floating up the stairs. As he washed he could only think of two things: his forgotten muffin and Bella's delighted face as she mocked him.

An hour later his stomach was grumbling. He drank water straight out of the tap since his sports drinks were all downstairs. His mother was too fastidious; she'd thrown out the bag of chips he'd opened last night and the half protein bar that had been on his nightstand. He needed food; he needed to go downstairs. He could only hope he'd have some privacy in his own home. It was supposed to be his sanctuary, not a showcase for humiliation.

Something was sizzling in the kitchen, he could smell garlic and onions from the stairs. Things were looking up until he heard a trill of feminine laughter joined by his father's barking chuckle. That was not his mother's laugh. He glanced into the den.

"Edward! Join us, I was just telling Bella some tales of the ER." His father was holding court in his recliner, glass of red wine in hand, wearing his ancient 'off-duty' jeans. "She has a strong stomach. Your mother can't listen to half my stories. Remember the guy with the vacuum cleaner—"

"I'm going to see if Mom needs some help."

"Twice in one day! Suit yourself."

Bella laughed again, at him, again.

The kitchen was no better. Renee and his mom were huddled by the kitchen table snorting at something while a pot of water boiled furiously on the stove. He turned down the flame.

His mother joined him at the stove. "Sweetie, leave that. I was just about to put the pasta in."

Stepping aside he eyed the contents of the other pan, tomatoey with chunks of vegetables and swirls of green, but no meat. "What's this?"

"Renee was showing me a vegetarian recipe." His mother opened the cabinet and pulled out a stack of dishes, handing them to him. "Set the dining room table sweetie."

Five dishes in the dining room, instead of three dishes to be perched on knees in the den. So Renee and the new bane of his existence were staying.

As he set down each plate, flanked by the merry sounds coming from two directions, he wondered what had happened to his orderly, quiet life. Surely, his parents had people to dinner, but that was well planned, he'd be informed to wear a collared shirt and slacks, his mother shopping at the good butcher shop for something fancy. People didn't just come home with her and join them for dinner as if they were family. He was wearing a Nike tee-shirt, shorts and flip-flops for dinner with company—when did that become okay?

The chatter over the steaming plates of pasta was incessant. His mother and Renee were like chirping birds, when one stopped to sip the wine or eat the other jumped in. Edward chewed quietly, hoping to slink away before they started another story about him and his penchant for nudity after a bath. He was focusing so hard on not listening to the women, that he didn't note his father speaking until Carlisle tapped him on the arm.

"Why don't you and Bella go pick up some ice cream from Elsies'?"

Edward was still chewing his last mouthful of pasta. "Ellsheeeshs?"

Simultaneously Esme and Renee said, "Don't talk with your mouth full!"

His father was already dipping into his wallet while the women giggled. "I'm cutting you two off. Here," he handed Edward some twenties. "Get that mocha chocolate chip your mother likes. Renee, you still like butter pecan?"

"Oh yeah, and do they still make toasted almond crunch? A scoop of that." Renee bumped into Bella with her shoulder. "Go with him. Elsie's makes the best ice cream."

Edward took the money. "It takes fifteen minutes to go to Elsie's. Ice Creamery is only five."

"Here's a life lesson my boy." Carlisle looked over his glasses. "Driving an extra ten minutes to keep your woman happy is a bargain."

The engine was just turning over when the passenger door opened and Bella slid in.

"Buckle up." He checked the rear view mirror as he backed out. He heard the click of the buckle, but didn't look at the girl next to him, focusing on the street. "You didn't have to come."

"If I had to hear another word about how cute you were in those pictures I was going to start hurting people. It was quite a hoot reliving the life and times of Edward Cullen through 10,000 photographs."

"Please, that's not my fault. My mother is embarrassing with that stuff."

"Your mother? Did you see my mother drooling over every picture?"

"She was just being polite."

"Sure, whatever you say. Let's not talk about our moms."

He suspected that her attitude towards him was a front to hide her attraction. She was young, maybe she didn't know how to handle her feelings. He decided to give her the smile that had gotten him many a phone number. Turning a quarter of the way towards her he smiled softly. "But being with me in real life is better? Aren't you overwhelmed with my cuteness?"

"HA!" She snorted. "Oh no, you were much cuter in pictures. I've seen way too much of you in real life. Waaaay too much."

He was wrong about her being attracted to him. Though past girlfriends had accused him of being obtuse he recognized that she didn't say that last bit playfully. She wasn't flirting. She sounded angry, but what had he ever done to anger her? He'd been planning to pretend the incident in the kitchen never happened but clearly she wasn't. He thought her getting into the car with him was an olive branch, but no. It seemed she just went along for the ride to needle him. He waited for her to apologize or say something else but neither spoke again, driving, parking, going to the door and standing in line without a word to the other. He recognized the girls behind the counter as the siblings of his high school class mates. He didn't remember their names, but they knew his.

"Edward! Oh My God!" The curly blonde one ran around the counter and hugged him, right in the middle of the line. Tyler's sister, he thought.

The one that still manned the counter waved and fluttered her eyes. Beautiful dark skin and dark brown, but sadly, short hair. Darren's sibling? He wasn't sure but she blew him a kiss. "What can I get for you sugar?"

He rattled off his parent's order, Raspberry-Orange-Lemon sorbet, Mocha chocolate chip-mint chocolate chip-cookie dough, Renee's order of two butter-pecan and one toasted coconut and his own, three scoops of chocolate in a cup.

Behind him Bella said, "All the same? They have a zillion flavors." She didn't wait for his answer, and waved down curly blonde. "I'll have peanut butter truffle, almond joy and brownie ripple with peanut butter sauce and whipped cream."

The girl looked over the counter at Bella. "You'll have to wait until this gentleman's order is complete."

"Gentleman?" Bella raised her eyebrows. "I'm with Ed here, if that's who you're talking about."

Curly blonde looked at Edward for confirmation and when he nodded her smile vanished. He noticed that the scoops for Bella's order were noticeably smaller than the earlier servings, but he didn't say anything.

They'd ordered enough to require a box lid to hold the ice cream, and instead of handing the container to Bella, Edward set it on the floor behind her seat. He wasn't about to ask Miss Prickly for any favors, such as holding their food.

A few miles from his house, Edward decided that he needed to be the bigger man in this instance. He'd ask her a few questions. Doesn't everyone like to talk about themselves?

"So Bella, do you have any hobbies?"

"None."

"I thought your mother said you made preserves and baked?"

"I don't do that for fun, I do that to make money."

"Oh." He expected a less tart answer, but if the girl had to earn money for clothing and such that was quite admirable. "So you buy your own shoes?" Every girl he knew was crazy for shoes.

"And pay the electric bill, insurance, water bill, food. Before Charlie came along the money I earned went to keeping us afloat. Now I'm saving for a car and school."

He felt a little self-conscious. His car had been a gift, brand new on his twenty-first birthday, replacing the one he received for his sixteenth birthday. He'd more or less expected it, being an only child, but so was Bella. "It must be nice to have your father around now."

He took her silence to mean she was ruminating on her parents, or the move or anything except for what she said next.

"Let's not talk about me. Let's talk about you. How long have you had trichophilia?"

He almost swerved off the road. "I do not have a hair fetish!"

"Reeeeeally. Every girl you dated had super long brown hair. That's not a coincidence."

"It's not a fetish either."

"Hmmn. I forgot, you're the perfect Edward."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're Mr. Brilliant. Figure it out."

"No, you brought it up. I still don't understand what I ever did to piss you off. I barely know you."

"What a surprise. But I know you. Aaaaall about you."

"That's ridiculous. We just met, you saw a bunch of my pictures and met some people I sort of know. You don't know me."

"That's where you're wrong. My whole life has been 'when Edward was three he was already playing chess. When Edward was five he was reading at an eighth grade level. Youngest winner of the state science fair, blah blah blah blah blah. My whole life I've been second place to you."

"That doesn't make sense. My mother hasn't seen your mom in years."

"There's this invention called Facebook. You might have heard of it."

"Of course I know what Face—"

She wouldn't let him finish. "You don't even appreciate what you have. You've lived in the same house your whole life, two great parents, and no financial worries. Charlie is mom's third husband and—"

"But I thought he was your father?"

"So she says, but my mother wouldn't marry him until a year ago. I had Daddy Roger, Daddy Alan, Uncle Tony, Uncle Dave, now finally my 'real' father." She made little finger quotes, then barreled on. "I learned not to get too attached. I'm sure she's going to screw this up too."

"You mom is a good person. I'm sure—"

"You're sure of nothing. You're basing your opinion on the observations of a toddler. You don't know what she's like in real life."

"I think you're exaggerating."

"I forgot how you're always right. Forget that I've lived with the woman my whole life. You know, I have an idea. You just live in your delusion and I'll live in mine. In September I'll be out of this town and I won't be back."

Stopping the car at the light, he tried to think of some way to redirect this train wreck of a conversation. "But our moms-"

"I'll find something else to do when Renee wants to visit your mom. You don't come into the store and we can manage to avoid each other completely. Deal?"

Edward wasn't sure he wanted this deal, but he didn't need someone in his life who clearly hated him. As far as he was concerned, none of it was his fault. As pretty and bright as she was, there were plenty of other women who would be interested in a handsome medical student. Why work so hard for something that had always come so easily? If he could wipe this day from his memory, it would be like Bella and her unfounded accusations never existed. As he drove down his street he weighed the benefits of a truce versus trying to change Bella's mind. Her body was twisted towards the door as if she couldn't wait to escape. He parked the car on the driveway and nodded twice. "Deal."

She got out of the car with the box of ice cream and jogged up to the front door. Her damn hair was swinging as she ran, the ends skimming the top of her shorts. He DID NOT have trichophilia, but he had to admit the sight did something to him. If only she didn't talk so much. There's a cure for that. She couldn't talk if he was kissing her.

 _My God_ , he thought _, I've lost my mind._ Eventually he'd have to let her up for air, and what would come out of that mouth then would not be worth the world's greatest kiss. She did something to him; he just needed to stay as far away from her as possible.

His parents and Renee were still at the dining room table, Bella handing each their ice cream. He took his seat, and Bella took hers, leaving the box lid with his cup of ice cream alone at the far end of the table. Renee was commenting about the best ice cream in the world, and his mother was extolling the virtues of a few new flavors. His father was focused on his concoction, none of them noticing that his ice cream had been stranded as far from his seat as possible. Bella stared into her cup as she ate silently. Shaking his head he stood and reached over for his dessert.

His father was speaking while Edward kept spooning his chocolate ice cream into his mouth. The party seems to be running fine without him, he didn't feel the need to pay attention, until his father said his name. "Edward, I said it seems there was some muck up with Bella's records, and she can't get on campus housing. As long as you don't object this seems like the best solution."

Edward shrugged. It wasn't his concern, students who didn't have their paperwork in order sometimes didn't get into a dorm. She'd have to figure something out.

His mother pushed Renee on the shoulder. "See, he doesn't mind."

Renee clapped her hands and squealed. "Really Edward? When your parents offered, I said it was too much, but I'm so happy you don't mind Bella sharing your place! Thanks so much, my little Wookie!" She was out of her chair and hugging him before he had a chance to protest.

.

.

* * *

 **a/n:** The plan is to update on Wednesdays. Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favs. I think I missed a few review replies, which I blame on reading and answering from my phone. So sorry if I missed you, I appreciate all reviewers, even those who don't like one of the characters.


	3. Chapter 3

Trichophilia Chapter 3

.

During the last month of classes Edward had run a countdown clock, marking off the days until he'd be back home in his quiet room, surrounded by his awards and trophies, adored and catered to by his mother. Up until med school, learning had been like breathing to him, effortless. Always at the top of his class, no need to 'apply himself' until high school where with little effort, and as expected by everyone, he excelled. College suited him and he raced through. It was also expected, with such genius, that he'd go to medical school like his father and his mother's father. As far back as he could remember his grandfather called him 'the little doctor'. Medical school was the first time he ever felt challenged. The sheer volume of work and the required hours were a rude awakening. He didn't know anyone who wasn't struggling to keep up, but the shock was that now he was struggling as well. He'd packed his schedule with the intentions of completing his PHD along with his MD, but his Teflon coated early years had not prepared him to actually work hard and some days feel like it wouldn't be enough. After a lifetime of floating on his natural intelligence, med school had brought him plummeting down to earth. Instead of going away for his break, he just wanted to come home, to be pampered on his pedestal, where people still believed he was the golden boy.

Now it was the reverse, he was counting down the days until he could escape back to his townhouse near campus, where he would ban any discussion of a certain girl. Until, of course, she arrived in person. At least he'd have a few weeks to himself before undergrad classes started.

Bella was there for every meal, not in person but by the anecdotes and accolades that seemed to be the sum total of all his mother's interests these days. Every spelling bee, every chess match, every honor she'd accomplished matched his tally by tally. His father was no better, remarking on her cleverness and industry. If this is what she'd been going through her whole life, with her own mother touting his every triumph, he could see why she hated him. He wondered if he sounded as insufferable as Miss Perfect.

His mother was on the phone, again, while he ate the spinach omelet she'd made. He tried to find something to watch on the den TV. By now he should be immune to the mention of that name, but as it fell for the millionth time from his mother's lips, cursing his self-control, he had to listen.

"Yes, Bella _was_ the youngest in her state to win the science fair. Yes, just like Edward, but she worked every day at her mother's store. We never wanted Edward to work so he could focus—"

Her voice faded, he could hear her clumping down the basement stairs. So his own mother was now qualifying his deeds. Pampered little Edward, he could hear Bella say, did the best that he could with every advantage handed to him, and his mother would be nodding along with her!

The only solace he had was that the townhouse was a large, two story unit, with three bedrooms and three bathrooms. Plenty of room to escape Miss Perfect. Without his parents watching he could be as rude as he pleased, all in the name of studying. He'd hardly ever have to see her. If she started whining about his behavior he'd be glad to show her to the street.

He pulled a pillow from the couch and held it over his head. Now he was lying to himself. There were plenty of people he didn't care for and could happily forget. Thoughts of Bella wouldn't leave him alone. He could never kick her out, as much as he could do without…what did his old pre-law roommate call it? Yes, an attractive nuisance. She was too attractive and that was a major nuisance.

Even his dad had been sucked into her spell. Carlisle had taken it upon himself to coach Bella in her med school applications, having the chit help in his office and shadowing him while he made his rounds, exactly as he did with Edward during his summer breaks. Topping it all this grandiose offer of letting her spoil his solitude was, he'd found out, his father's idea. Yes, his parents bought the townhouse as an investment that he could live in, and yes he was supposed to secure a rent paying roommate already but it wasn't his fault that no one had suited him. Now SHE would be moving in, not a word said about rent. How exactly was that a profitable investment? He sunk a little further down in his chair, his pajama clad legs stretched in front of him on the ottoman.

"Edward, aren't you getting dressed?"

Somehow his mother had snuck up during his funk. She held a box labeled 'work gloves'. "Trail clearing starts in 45 minutes! We barely have time to get there, and we have to set up the refreshment stations!"

He searched his mind to remember ever committing to assisting at another of his mothers' pet projects. There was a faint memory of a mention of 'Friends of the Parks' but surely he wouldn't have volunteered. Trail clearing in the past meant sunburn, bug bites and blisters. No thanks. "Mom I just started watching this..." He glanced at the screen to get the gist of the program, but he hadn't a clue what it was.

"Good thing you can record it." His mother for the most part doted on him, almost to a fault. But once in a while a bit of steel would find its way into her backbone and there was no saying no. This was such a time. She continued, "You have five minutes to get dressed and put the folding tables in my car."

His first job after unloading the boxes of supplies and setting up the tables, was to set out the directional arrow signs to guide the volunteers to the trail head. He was pounding in the last one when a passing car honked and he missed his target, the mallet flying free. He jumped aside just far enough to spare his shin.

"Edward, hi Edward!" It was Renee, waving as she drove by, with Bella in the passenger seat.

Of course Bella was here. They'd made good on their deal, which wasn't that difficult. He rarely went shopping and Renee repeated excuse after excuse as to why Bella didn't come with her to his parents' house. He still couldn't understand how the offspring of his gentle, sweet babysitter could look so much like her mother, but have the opposite personality. He watched as Renee parked the car and his nemesis got out, obviously planning to drive him mad by wearing shorts with her hiking boots. He looked away towards the people gathering at the starting point. His mother mentioned over seventy adults and two scout packs would be participating in today's activities; surely with so many bodies he could avoid Bella's undeniably attractive body and hold up his end of the truce.

Returning to the outskirts of the gathering he found a bit of shade so he could watch his mother in action. Give her a clipboard and a megaphone and she became a general of good deeds. Handing out maps with carefully highlighted sections to each subgroup, along with work gloves, sun block, clippers and rakes, Esme was a star. He could admire a job well done and her organizational skills were first class.

Edward bided his time with his arms folded, leaning against a tree observing until the troops were off and he could pack up. He was waiting for the word when his mother approached, gloves, clippers and rake in hand.

"Here's yours."

"My what?"

"Edward, I could hardly assign the trail at the top of the falls to the scout groups, they're too young, and no one in the gardening club is under seventy five. It's simply too steep for them. I can't trust the kids from the high school, they're already acting up."

The high school students, his mother had told him in the car, were there to earn community service hours, most of them not by choice. Pine cones were being tossed, girly shrieks were heard as their pimply amoretti teased them. No, this crowd could not be trusted.

"Fine, I'll do it." Edward started off but his mother stopped him.

"Do you think I would send you alone? Bella's going with you."

"That's ridiculous, I can handle…"

His mother gripped him by the back of the neck, pulling his head down to her level. To anyone looking on it would appear that his loving mother was whispering words of endearment. In fact, what she said was, "Bella doesn't have any friends here. You will work with her and you will be nice." The last bit was said with a hiss, so unlike her usual soft words.

Bella appeared, Renee behind her spraying something that smelled strongly of eucalyptus.

"This is a new organic insect repellent," Renee announced as she began spraying him. "Duck down so I can get your neck."

An overwhelming scent of lemon and mint surrounded him. "Does it work?"

"We'll see. It's a new line I just got in."

Bella stared ahead. Something was off. He tried to peak without being obvious. She was wearing a blue ball cap, a flannel over-shirt, tee-shirt, and denim shorts…her hair. Her hair! He couldn't see anything but some bangs. There should be too much of it to fit under her cap. There was no subtle way to check her out from behind, to see if she'd hidden her locks under her shirt. He sucked on his teeth, before he decided to feign gentlemanly manners and motioned for her to precede him.

She smiled straight at him, intentionally, he thought, holding her head quite still. "I've never been here Edward, don't you think you should lead the way?"

Recognizing when he'd been outmaneuvered, he walked on, trying to think of a subtle way to get her to reveal herself. He needed to know that her hair was still there.

"Wait." his mother called, "Take a bag lunch. You might be a while." He hustled over to the food table, presuming he could get a glimpse as Bella walked ahead to the well-marked start of the trail. Instead she pivoted as he approached, never allowing him to see her back.

He debated running the trail to get this whole ordeal over sooner, but his hiking boots would kill his feet, so he walked, Bella just behind him. The falls were at the farthest point on the trail and once they'd outpaced the groups that were working the nearer sections the sounds of the woods took over. Birdsong, rustling leaves and the distant cascading water were generally soothing to him, but today all he could focus on was the breathing of the girl behind him. Is that what those monks dealt with, the ones who took the oath of silence? Trying to discern what their companion was thinking by a sudden intake of breath or how their steps might vary? Was she angry, annoyed, itching for a fight, or worst of all, indifferent? She was new to this town, didn't she have any questions or had she already learned all she cared to know and was prepared to figuratively wipe off the dust of this town and head out for the wide world? In a way he was insulted. It wasn't such a bad town, and though he had mocked it endlessly while away at school, the truth was it was a pretty place, with mostly friendly people. She had given neither him nor the place of his birth a chance. He trudged on until he reached the flag marking their segment.

The instructions on the reverse of the map were simple, they were bushing the trail, cutting back by a foot everything from both sides of the trail bed, pulling larger branches to the side so the ranger's gator could pass, noting any significant fallen trees that would require the team with the chainsaw and marking any places the trail had eroded. Bella snipped like a madwoman and he matched her tempo. After a good hour of work Edward removed his outer shirt. Bella was flushed red and her skin had a glow.

"You should take off that flannel shirt." He tied his shirt around his waist. "You don't want to overheat."

She stopped her pruning. "You'd like me to take it off, wouldn't you?"

He considered for a moment. He honestly did suggest it so she wouldn't get too hot, but not a small part of him wanted to know what was going on with her hair. Did she just have it tucked away or had she done something more drastic? Did their hair discussion revolt her so much that she…cut it off?

She stood holding the clippers against her thigh, he thought somewhat aggressively, waiting for his response.

"It's a good time to take a break."

"So you're not trying to find out what's going on with my hair?"

"You're not starting with that again." He looked into his bag to fetch water bottles, also giving himself an excuse not to look at her head. He was dying to know what she'd done with her hair. He'd tried to detect a bulge under her shirt but it was too loose. He handed her a bottle, opened his and leaned his head back to drink, his eyes sliding sideways hoping to catch a glimpse, hoping she was unaware.

She was aware. "Are you looking for this?" Out of her shirt like a snake charmer she pulled her hair plaited in one long tight braid.

He gasped in relief. He wanted to touch it, untie it, free it and run his finger through every silky inch.

"Had you scared for a minute, didn't I?" She removed her flannel shirt leaving on a pale peach tee, her braid a dark river flowing down her back.

He couldn't stop himself from looking, forced himself to look away for a second by rolling his eyes up to the tree tops, but her hair was like magnetic North and he a helpless compass. He was proving her point. Did he have trichophilia? He'd heard plenty of locker room talk, there were guys who liked big boobs, big butts, long legs—no one thought those preferences were fetishes. Why was his particular predilection so unusual?

"I like long hair. You're making a big deal out of it."

"Really?" She reached her hand behind her head and drew her hair over her shoulder, smoothing it down, then flipping the end up, moving it like a baton to emphasize her words. "So if I unbraided it, ran my fingers through it, it wouldn't affect you at all?"

The idea of her hair loose, the breeze catching it, blowing closer to him—NO, he wasn't falling for her bait. He tried to think of the bald barber in town, bleached blondes, bad perms, buzz cuts, all the ways he did not like hair. Distraction was the key. "Let's stop wasting time."

The trail narrowed towards the top until they were working shoulder to shoulder, wordlessly pointing out what needed to be done. Playful chatter could be heard drifting up from other groups, with an occasional laugh, but they toiled in silence. He began to think about the monks again as they gradually worked up the hill. Rope had been strung along the side of the trail facing the water to function as a handrail, due to the steep angle of the path in this section. The rush-rumble of the water fall was louder now. Working on the sharply cut away side of the trail, Edward could see flashes of the water through the brush. Not enormous by water fall standards, at about sixty feet tall, the falls were his favorite place in the park. He could sit mesmerized for an hour watching the water break onto the shale shelves on the way down, creating white bubbling whirlpools that glittered in the sun against the dark wet stone, an iridescent mist rising above the rapids. It was tough going, so most visitors turned back before reaching the summit, settling for the view from a lower offshoot of the trail rather than trekking to the top for the full effect. He sighed, thinking that if he explained his thoughts on the falls to Bella he'd only get a laugh for his troubles. Edward stepped carefully on the sheer flat stone surrounded by gravel, the combination making the trail tricky to navigate. Even with his flannel shirt tied round his waist, Edward could feel sweat rolling down his back and into his pants. Looking to the side he could see Bella was red too, sweat darkening her back and under her arms. Tucking his work gloves into his waistband he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand then pointed ahead on the path. "Almost there. Let's break for lunch at the top."

"Let me just finish this." A few bees were hovering around and feeding from the bushes whose long thorny canes arced into the path closest to Bella.

 _Wild raspberries_ , he thought. Maybe they could come back in a few weeks when they were ready to eat. He pictured feeding each other ripe, red berries, as rich as her lips. _Right_ , he shook his head. Like she'd voluntarily come back here with him, and besides he'd be back at school. He needed to get this girl out of his head.

"Last one." Reaching out to clip back a branch Bella's boots started to slide on the loose gravel. A gasp and her wide eyes told him that she did not have this under control, her hands flailing for something to stop her fall. Small stones skipped down and over the edge of the trail, under the rope handrail and into the air. A sudden vision of Bella following the stones to a certain death in the falls flashed through Edward's mind. With one hand on the rope he reached for her, catching her forearm. Her sweaty wrist in his sweaty hand slipped a millimeter, but he had her good and solid, his feet braced and other hand tight on the rope. She twisted as she landed hard on the shale, small stones rolling down past her boots, plinking as they pinged off the shale and finally landed far below.

He kept his grip as she scrambled to her feet, a long scuff of dirt on the side of her shorts and leg. He expected some gushing thanks, maybe a little swoon at his strength and quick thinking. He should have known better.

"You can let go now. I'm fine." Freed, she dusted off her seat and rubbed at the red skin where he'd held her. "Uh, thanks."

She looked around, grabbed the guide rope, and picked up the clippers where they'd fallen then resumed clipping as if nothing had happened. She was breathing hard and the back of her neck was red, but that was it.

He felt like he'd been more shaken by the slip than she was. He thought of how some of the other girls he knew might have reacted. Crying, hysterics, or nothing, because someone like Jessica wouldn't have been there in the first place. She'd never volunteer unless there was something in it for her. Angela was too devoted to her studies to take an afternoon off, and Alice/Al never volunteered for outdoor things when she lived here. His admiration for Bella's toughness grew, but what was the point? She had expressed, at best, tolerance for him. He never shied from difficult tasks, but making this girl see him as more than a pompous mama's boy was just impossible. He thought at least, if she wasn't gushing with thanks for him, at _least_ they'd shared a kind of a moment.

He shook his head as she continued to clip, oblivious to any moment sharing he may have felt. Maybe she was Super Girl, but he needed to sit for a few minutes. "Let's break for lunch now and finish this section on the way down."

She nodded and started walking, hand over hand on the rope.

He found his favorite wide, flat stone and sat cross-legged overlooking the drop. Closing his eyes he let the mist coming off the water cool him. He'd never taken a girl to the falls before, though he thought, he hadn't taken one today either; she'd been assigned to him. He heard the small noises of her settling near him, even over the roar of the falls. Was he that attuned to her because his eyes were closed or was he always hyper aware of her presence? She cleared her throat. At last, was she going to make some reconciliatory remark?

"Can you pass me my sandwich?"

The bag with the food was next to his thigh. He reached in and offered her a choice of the standard volunteer meals his mother had been assembling for years, ham or cheese sandwich, apple and a mostly defrosted sports drink. Before he let go he remembered the one meal they had shared. "You're not a vegetarian?"

"That's my mom's thing."

He nodded as he ate, letting the peace of the place wash over him. If they didn't have a task to finish, he would have taken off his boots and let his feet cool off in the pool that gathered a few yards from the drop, but then he'd have to dry everything off, it would take a long time and his mother would give him the eye when he and Bella took too much time returning. Sometimes he felt like his mother was trying to set them up. He still didn't understand how Renee and Bella had been so roundly embraced by his family, almost absorbed into their unit. It didn't make sense. Bella's words replayed in his mind, something about the way she said that Charlie was her father made him think that she didn't believe it to be true. Could his father—no, he shook his head at the implication. That would explain his father's interest in the girl, but not his mother's. It wasn't a crime to be so friendly, but it certainly was odd.

"You've broken up with girls because they changed their hair?"

Shaking his head, the peaceful mood lost, he answered, "I think you're the one with the hair fetish. Why do you keep bringing this up?"

"I'm trying to figure you out." She looked across the falls at the tree tops. "The way my mother talked about you I thought you'd be some kind of Einstein-Gates hybrid. And then your mother shows us these pictures, and all the girls you dated look kind of like my mom, and if that's not creepy enough when they changed their hair you broke up with them."

Edward glanced at his wrist, wishing he'd brought a watch, and wishing his mother hadn't been so free with details about his pathetic love life. He did not want to have this conversation here or anywhere for that matter. Maybe someone would whistle or something, giving him an excuse to cut this short. "People break up for all kinds of reasons."

"You get to know a girl, do things with her, then she changes her hair and it changes your feelings toward them? That's at least shallow."

"Well, I…" He didn't really have a rebuttal. Looking at it that way, it did seem rather churlish of him. Then he remembered what happened with Jessica. "There were two girls I didn't break up with because of hair."

"Oh?" Bella raised an eyebrow. "Did they gain weight? Not know the periodic table? Use the wrong fork?"

"No. Jess didn't want children."

"Well that would be a serious disparity. And the other?"

"She didn't like…" he faded away, not wanting to admit why he ended things with Angela.

"You're mumbling! What did the girl do that was so grievous that you had to break up with her?"

"Star Wars. She didn't like Star Wars."

"You broke up with her because she didn't like some movies?" She shook her head and started packing up her lunch, the sandwich half eaten. "You're unbelievable."

"You don't know me, so you don't get to judge me." He balled up his sandwich wrapper and shoved it back into the bag. "We're going to be living together, so we need to set some ground rules."

"About that. I'm sorry, I had nothing to do with it. I'm coming in as an upperclassman and my mother had to send an appeal to the dean which she never managed to mail so I'm stuck, or believe me I wouldn't be rooming with you." She turned towards him, the corner of her lip turned up in the start of a smile. "I'm afraid I'll wake up with you brushing my hair."

"That's ridiculous." Maybe it was some sort of heat stroke, but he couldn't help but blurt out the next thing that came into his head. "I'd want to shampoo it first."

She stood, hands on her hips glaring down at him. "That's a joke, right?"

"Yes." It mostly was a joke. He would like to wash her hair, feel the suds and warm water flowing through his fingers. "All the girls I dated liked when I touched their hair. It was consensual grooming."

"You know," she said as she laughed, "That's funny if you meant it as a joke, and funny if you don't, just in a different, creepy, way."

"Fine, that can be the basis for our house rules. I don't brush anyone's hair but my own."

She didn't answer, but she didn't contest the rule either. He wasn't sure if she was softening her attitude towards him, didn't take him seriously, or if she was just humoring him for the length of time they were forced to live together. For a genius he was having a hell of a time figuring out how to solve a problem like Bella. Great, and now he was misquoting old movies. What was she doing to him? Bella seemed completely unaffected and just turned and started walking down the trail, her braid bouncing, swaying, and taunting him with every step.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** Spent 30 of the last 42 hours in the hospital with a sick parent, so excuse the errors I did not find. Hospital rooms are terrible places to edit. Hopefully next week will run smoother. Brownie points for anyone who can name the movie he's misquoting


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

.

Bella was elbows deep in the raspberry patch, holding the rope tightly with one hand while trimming with the other, cutting back the canes that arched into the trail. Edward noted that she moved carefully, making sure of her grip on the rope and footing before taking another step.

He regretted taking their break as they were now working in full sun. Like micro helicopters, bees fed and re-positioned themselves among the flowering branches. The thorns scrapped the skin that wasn't covered by his gloves or shirt. Really, he thought, the wild raspberries grew back so quickly they should probably rip out the entire patch—"OUCH! Fucking bees!"

He slapped at his inner elbow, then inspected his arm where several bees had stung his exposed skin. He flailed at the flying demons who hovered just out of his reach.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." He didn't want to admit that it hurt like hell, like burning needles had been jabbed into his skin. He rubbed but it wasn't getting better, the pain was growing worse. He'd been bitten before, but it never felt this bad. The bees were riled up, their movement erratic, their buzzing taking on an angry tone. An ominous tone. He considered the last few overlong branches, his now throbbing arm, the increasing number of bees gathering and decided. He grabbed Bella's hand. "Run!"

It was more of a slide then a run, punctuated by awkward, giant steps to keep their balance as they gained momentum, stumbling down the hill. Ever faster, he pulled Bella along, their hands still joined despite the difficult terrain. His tried to shake away the burning in his arm but it wouldn't quit. He tripped, she tripped, and they alternately dragged and pulled each other, but somehow managed to stay upright. Even though they'd seemed to have gotten ahead of the bees, he felt a rising sense of panic. It was getting harder to breathe even though they were slowing down.

They got to the spot where the trail widened and still they ran, now side by side. Bella pulled just ahead of him now but was looking back, pulling at his arm. She was saying something, he could see her mouth moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. Some kind of aura seemed to have formed around her face, she glowed or maybe it was the heat. His arm, his arm felt like a club, like an anchor. What was happening to him? If only he could think straight, he could…why couldn't he hear Bella, her mouth was still moving, and she was pulling his hand with both of hers now. Gasping, trying to suck in enough air, his lungs seemed to have shrunk. He felt a wave of nausea and dizziness overcome him, slowing him down. His legs felt like lead, too heavy to lift. His whole body seemed to be itching and on fire at the same time. What was happening to him? If only he could think straight, he could… Bella was yelling, her mouth open wide, her neck straining, but he had no idea what she was going on about. He tried to pay attention, but he couldn't focus, it was too hard. His face was burning but the parts of his body that weren't itching were suddenly freezing cold. He tried to tell her to let him lie down, but his tongue was too thick in his mouth. He was out of breath and when he felt himself fall to the ground, he welcomed the chance to rest and the soothing darkness.

Why was his bed shaking and bouncing? He could see that it was light through his closed eyelids, but nothing made sense, how had he gotten home and why? And people, why were there people in his room? He couldn't make out the individual voices, but people were yelling, running, pulling at his clothes. Couldn't they be quiet and let him rest? Despite the ruckus, he was able to drift back to sweet oblivion.

He was jolted awake by a stabbing punch to his thigh. He could hear her, Bella, close to his side, panting as she spoke. "I just gave him the second injection."

He was being moved. It felt like he was in a narrow, bouncing hammock. Opening his eyes he saw three boys and a woman jogging in matching green shirts that said Troop 85, two on each side of him holding thick branches that ended by his feet. To his right Bella was red faced, holding a cell phone to her ear, one hand on his neck as she trotted alongside him. Glancing down, she shouted into the phone, "He's conscious. Looks like the second shot did it. We're bringing him to the parking lot to meet the EMTs"

His mind was clearing and he realized that he must have gone into anaphylactic shock after the bee stings. Edward remembered long ago learning to make emergency gurneys out of shirts and branches when he was a cub scout. He remembered laughing as his den took turns ferrying each other around. He wasn't laughing now. He needed to close his eyes against the chaos.

There was wailing, a new caterwauling of sound approaching.

As the sound got closer, he recognized his mother shrieking, "Edward! Oh my baby!"

"Is he alright?" That was Renee.

"Stay back, let them through!" Bella was running the operation like a drill sergeant.

He opened his eyes for a second. His mother's hands were over her mouth, her eyes wide and streaming tears. It looked like Renee was holding her up.

Bella was waving away the volunteers who gathered to see the spectacle. "Clear the trail people!"

The electronic squawk of a radio broke through the crowd. A ranger on an all-terrain vehicle, his voice amplified by the mike in his hand, instructed the scouts to wait while he turned his ride, then transferred Edward to a bona-fide stretcher attached to the back. His mother climbed into the only other seat while Edward was strapped in and they were off, bumping down the trail. Over his toes he could see Bella standing strong, Renee hanging on her neck, watching as he was carted away.

"Still with us sport?" The ranger called over his shoulder, "Lucky your friend knew what to do. You could have died."

Clearly, park service training did not include bedside manner. His mother gushed a fresh round of tears as the ranger recounted Bella's cool heroics and Edward's collapse.

Somehow Bella had rallied the scout troops, found and administered two epi-pens, called the ambulance, and basically saved his life. She must think he's entirely useless. He felt completely emasculated. He would never live this down. And by the way his mother's every other sentence was, _"Thank God Bella was there,"_ she'd be telling this story for the rest of his life. _Great, just great_.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** Short chapter is short, sorry, that's just where it broke. Many people are fans of _The Sound of Music_ movie and identified "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria" as Edward's inspiration. The reviewers who correctly chimed in are: **Kreitlow, 2muchtrouble, Ellachanted, maggiejoma, AnakinSmom, Ninkita, Jeni k, LibararyLady08, NKubie, Yali. Page, GorGirl, jk182, JayNahNah, NoWayWithWords** and one of my lovely, long time faithful reader/reviewers, **The Green Panther.** And thank you for the many kind words and wishes. My mom has been moved to a rehab facility and is making progress. This fandom does have the nicest people. oxoxo2old


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

8:14 pm. Edward looked up from his reading. It wasn't fair. When Bella was here, the muted sounds of her routine distracted him. Now the silence due to her absence disconcerted him. Her last class officially ended at eight but that laggard Professor Whalen had a habit of shortchanging the class, dismissing them as early as 7:40. Between 7:52 and 7:59 Edward would hear her keys jingling while she stood on the little porch, then the front door open then shush closed, the clop-clop of her shoes as she kicked them off then lined them up to the left of the door. The tinkle of her keys on the hook, the suction release of the refrigerator, the sounds of dishes and cutlery in the kitchen, maybe the microwave buzzing for a bit, then the padding up the stairs to her room, her door opening and closing. Supposing that today the lazy ass gave the university the time they were paying him for, it only took her twelve minutes to walk back to the townhouse. The latest she'd ever been was 8:09. So she should be home by now.

It wasn't his business. She'd been quite clear on the day she'd moved in. As soon as the quartet of parents took off, she'd turned from the window and addressed him.

"I'm not your mother, your maid or your chef, so don't expect me to cook or clean for you. We're not buddies or siblings, we're just inhabiting the same space for the time being. I'm not responsible for you, you're not responsible for me. Capish?"

The gentleman in him had been appalled, the knave in him delighted. She wasn't his sister, cousin, girlfriend or ward. He briefly thought of running a line of masking tape down the center of the common rooms, but considered the potential damage to the hardwood floors and the flack he'd get from his mother, decided against it. Thankfully she had her own bathroom, so there would be no awkward towel clad confrontations. He wasn't much of a cook, usually grabbing something from one of the little restaurants near campus, so the kitchen wasn't really an issue. She to her room, him to his, just as it should be.

Of course his mother had made a big deal of everything. The week before Rapunzel was set to arrive, his mother swept in with her Pottery Barn bags, boxes and painting supplies. The empty bedroom that had been home to his golf clubs and bike was now furnished with a brand new queen sized bed with a white washed headboard, blue and white ticked bedding, gauzy curtains, a nightstand, dresser, desk and plush upholstered chair. Even an area rug, lest her dainty feet get cold.

Edward poked his head into the doorway, where his mother was collecting the bits of plastic and packaging. "Was all this necessary? Doesn't she have her own things?"

"I told Renee we had a guest room all set up so she wouldn't go out and spend money."

Yes, he thought, instead _we're_ spending the money to make it look like this had always been there. Of course, his mother being his mother, she couldn't throw together a few thrift store items, she had to buy top shelf everything and create a room that the girl would never want to leave.

"Now she'll never want to leave." He planted himself in the chair, more comfortable than the one in his room. He briefly considered swapping them, less the girly throw pillow, but his mother would notice the next time she visited. "I thought she applied for on campus housing. This will all be a waste then."

Esme sat on the bed, smoothing the comforter. "Edward, she's alone here. Renee and I would feel much better if she had someone to watch over her, show her around. I hope she'll stay instead of finding another place. I think we all owe her a debt of gratitude." She looked at him, expecting, but not getting a response. She sighed. "It's the least we could do."

In his head Edward disagreed. The least he could do would be to hand her a couple of takeout menus and a can of pepper spray, and leave her to her own devices. He was not cut out to be a college life ambassador, and especially not for her.

He'd been leery, waiting for her to lord over him the whole bee incident. At least, he assumed, she'd be telling the tale all over campus. Despite this, and to be honest, in an effort to curtail the tale telling, he tried to be the bigger person and expressed his thanks one evening after she'd arrived. She was sitting at the breakfast bar working on her computer. He decided it was best to get it over with. It went differently than he expected.

"I never really thanked you for the bee thing."

She looked up from her laptop and raised her eyebrows. "Your mother sent flowers and cookies and a fruit basket and a teddy bear and the price tags are still on some of the things in my room. I think that's adequate thanks."

"But _I_ never said anything." Truly he'd avoided her from the time he was checked out of the ER until she arrived at the townhouse. He claimed, when his mother asked, that he had too many things to do to before returning to campus, but really he didn't know how he'd handle her gloating face if he tried to thank her. He made it a point not to seek her out to delay this moment. "You really went all out to save me. I didn't realize I'd become allergic to bees."

"Yellow jackets."

"What?"

"Everyone keeps saying bees." Bella stared at her screen. "They were yellow jackets, a type of wasp frequently mistaken for bees. That's why they were able to sting you so many times."

Was she serious? Did the exact type of insect really matter here—the important point was that she'd saved his life. He wished she'd look at him so he could tell if she was joking. She wouldn't face him so he spoke to the side of her head. "I was a little busy going into shock to identify what had bitten me." Still she stared straight ahead. "I just wanted to say thank you for saving me."

"What else would I do, leave you to die?" She flashed her eyes at him then went back to looking down at her keyboard. "Look Edward, I only did what I would have done for anyone. You're not so special. You don't have to thank me for breathing, I do it whether you want me to or not. You stopped me from sliding off the trail, I took care of you. OK? We're even."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to-"

She slapped her laptop closed and tucked it under her arm. "I don't have any friends here, who would I tell? Remember what we said before, I'm not responsible for you, you're not responsible for me. Now do you mind, I have to change a class." She retreated to her room, slamming the door behind her.

And that was the end of it. She'd released him from any obligation. And at the time he'd been relieved.

But reliving her words, one phrase stood out. ' _You're not so special._ ' He'd never heard that before. His entire life he'd been called some version of special: wonderful, exceptional, advanced, outstanding, remarkable, phenomenal. Who was this girl to call him ordinary? Was she comparing him to herself? There was something about expectations and performance. Was he as good as he was because he'd been led to believe he was a prodigy? Was he just very bright and not the spectacular brainiac he'd been told he was his whole life?

Or was this another mind game, her way of manipulating him? She had to have been more affected by the whole episode. You didn't go through something like that, save someone's life, and pass it off like just another day, another job to be done. She couldn't be as cool as she was playing it.

She thought she could out maneuver him, psyche him out. He wasn't falling for it. If she wanted to be on her own, he'd leave her to her own, extra-special, devices.

But, thinking about how she couldn't meet his eyes, her terse responses—maybe she had some sort of social anxiety disorder, or was on the Asperger's spectrum. Many brilliant people were. But she had no problem interacting with his father and mother. According to his dad she'd been quite the hit at his practice. He didn't mention anything about her having difficulties interacting with people. Except for him.

Whatever the case, she'd made her preferences clear. He was not a therapist and she was not his project. He'd give her plenty of space, which had been his plan all along. He had more than enough to do without concerning himself with her.

For two weeks his avoidance of his roommate had worked perfectly. Except for the little sounds, the occasional drying glass by the sink, an unfamiliar plastic cup in the bin, there was no sign of her.

So why was he worrying that it was now 8:23 pm? It was still early. She probably stopped for coffee or a soda with some Neanderthal who thought he had a chance with her. Or that wretched excuse for a pedagogue was leering after her, chatting her up. That one had a reputation, and if she'd asked him he would have told her that Dr. Petersen was a better choice for that class, but he wasn't consulted. He didn't offer either, but she was Miss Independence. Let her make her own mistakes, it was nothing to him. He turned back to his reading.

8:47. Slamming his textbook closed he reached over to shut down his laptop. Some air would do him good, a quick walk to get his blood flowing. Tying his sneakers he reached for the usual trifecta of phone, keys and wallet and left the townhouse. For a walk.

He glanced at the clusters of students strolling, growing dimmer then brighter as they passed under the line of street lights. He'd never noticed how many dark spaces there were between the lights, ample room for someone to hide or be hidden. He scanned as he walked, but didn't see anything unusual. He'd walked, coincidentally, past the building where Bella had her last class. It took him less than ten minutes, logical considering his greater stride and the fact that he didn't carry anything. A guard was locking the doors to the building. To ask if anyone was still inside would be an insult, right? He glanced up: all the windows were dark. A group of girls, tottering in tight jeans or tiny skirts and abbreviated tops were laughing at nothing. One of them whistled like an oaf at a construction site. When he looked over his shoulder to see what they were whistling at, one of them waved and then the group convulsed into a fresh wave of mirth.

A few steps later on was the campus café. Students were always there until closing and they had to be forced out, clutching their overpriced milkshakes pretending to be coffee. He looked through the wall of windows. Individuals and couples occupied the tables in the front. Out of the corner of his eye he detected a familiar swish. Towards the back of the dining area, a long fall of dark hair, tamed into a pony tail, called to him. He felt a physical sense of relief at the sight and let out a long breath. He could go back to his reading, knowing that she was safe and not the victim of some accident or malicious act, but he felt compelled to stay. His dinner had been bland, a nuked half cheeseburger from the day before. Some iced coffee would be just the thing to perk him up. If she asked, that would be his reason.

He hadn't been in the café for at least two semesters. The coffee was hit and miss; he preferred brewing his own, but he'd seen the plastic cups she'd left in their recycling with the distinctive smell of coffee and chocolate and the café logo. He didn't know exactly what Bella bought, but the menu board had been designed for imbeciles, the various size plastic cups stapled to one side of the photos of the different drinks. As he waited for his order to be filled, his eye roamed. Her cinched hair flowed in a narrow stream down the back of her chair, shimmying as she spoke, her audience a girl with short black hair, a large boy with curly dark hair, and a wan blond boy who, Edward suspected, took great pride in the pathetic pony tail he sported. As a connoisseur of hair Edward would recommend that blondie cut his losses and go for a crew cut. There seemed to be a vigorous debate going on at their table. There were many open seats on that side of the room, it only made sense for him to wander over with his drink.

He passed the table at an angle, so he could look at her as long as possible before she could spot him. A moment after he walked into her field of vision-

"Were you looking for me?"

He turned towards her voice, feigning surprise. "Bella? I had no idea you were here."

She got up, waving her table mates to stay behind her, and stood in front of him, arms crossed. "Right. You didn't follow me?"

"No." Drinking from the straw he rolled his eyes. "I was thirsty."

"I've never seen you in here."

The oversized boy at her table came to flank her. "Bella, is this guy bothering you?"

"Ben, it's fine—"

He thrust his hand towards Ben's chest. "Bella lives with me." He couldn't help but give him an especially firm handshake. "I'm Edward, second year medical student. And you are?"

"Um, we're doing a group—"

Bella cut him off. "You don't have to answer that. Edward's my roommate, not my keeper."

He was hit with a sudden inspiration, a way to keep tabs on Bella and an eye on her less than savory group members. It might interfere with his private temple of solitude, but better that then another night wondering where she'd gone. "You could all meet back at the townhouse." Edward swayed back on his heels. "We're right on fo-"

Bella's hand flew to the back of his arm and pinched the bit of skin where his arm joined his shoulder, hard. "NO, you're too generous Edward, we can't disturb your studying! We're done for tonight and they're about to close anyway."

The coffee concocter had begun flipping the lights on and off. Edward stepped back, rubbing his arm.

The other girl at the table closed her laptop. Ben collected his papers, and the other boy hitched a messenger bag over his shoulder while looking at Bella, a long slow glance. Edward expected to see him lick his lips.

Messenger boy moved into her personal space. "I'll walk you back Bella."

"No need James. Edward is going straight back, right?"

"Directly." Edward sized up the younger student with his blonde hair and dark roots, baggy cargo pants and black tee-shirt. With a deliberate motion he stepped between the boy and Bella, and reached over for her bag, still on the table. "I'll manage this."

With a few murmurs of good bye Edward and Bella walked out. Edward stood, finishing his drink while waiting for the others to head off in their respective directions before turning back towards the apartment. They walked in silence for a few minutes but he was getting annoyed at her lack of gratitude. "Feel free to thank me, any time."

She stopped short. "Thank you for what?"

He pivoted on his heel to face her. "There's no reason for you to meet in the café, you can bring the group home."

"Did you think that maybe I didn't want everyone in the group to know where I lived? James gives me the creeps."

"Blondie?" She nodded. Edward pointed to his chest. "But he knows I live with you. That should deter-"

"And he knows you're a medical student, with crazy hours and that there will be plenty of times when I'm home alone."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

"Yeah, yeah." Bella sped up, her hair swishing behind her like an angry horse.

He increased his pace until he caught up with her.

She glared at him. "Why did you come looking for me?"

"I wasn't looking for you, I wanted an iced coffee."

"Right. I've never seen you in there, and the one night I'm late you show up? You're stalking me."

"How can I stalk you when we live together? Wouldn't that preclude a stalker situation?"

He took two more steps before he realized she'd stopped.

She stood with her arms crossed. "Did you follow me?"

"I wasn't…" Realizing that lying wouldn't get him anywhere he decided to come clean. "You weren't home at your usual time. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"How did you know I wasn't home? I never see you! I only know if you're home by whether your shoes are on the mat."

"I listen." He listened to make sure he wouldn't run into her and have some sort of forced confrontation. He still daydreamed about brushing her hair. Not seeing her glorious mane was easier all around, but he wasn't about to admit that. "I know your schedule." He also wasn't going to admit that he knew she washed her hair Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, based on her longer than usual shower time and the sound of the blow dryer on those days. "We don't have to be best friends but looking out for each other is the civilized thing to do."

"How about not hiding in your room when I'm home? It's kind of creepy knowing someone else is there but not seeing you." She uncrossed her arms and started walking again.

He knew this was the first time she'd lived away from home. Her mother wouldn't let her live on campus before since Bella started so young. He heard his mother tell the story over and over, how Bella finished high school at fourteen then took online college classes, finally commuting to the state university near their home when she was old enough to drive. As smart as she was, living away from your parents was still an adjustment. He knew this but he'd been disregarding her needs. Time for him to be a little less of an ass. "I won't keep my door closed all the time. And I'll talk to you, okay?"

Bella stomped on, then suddenly turned to him, shaking her head. "Change of subject. Why the hell do we have to have group projects in an upper level course? We wasted twenty minutes arguing about what font to use and who would print out the paper."

She'd hit upon one of his pet peeves. "I never understood the value of group projects. They only bring you down to the level of the weakest member, unless you do all the work yourself, in which case the rest of the group is riding on your coattails."

"Exactly my point! I tried telling Professor Whalen—"

"There's your problem." Edward tapped his head and put his hand out. "Whalen's a lazy bastard. Groups of four means grading one quarter the papers. Less work for him. Dr. Petersen didn't have any group work when I took that class."

"You could have told me that."

"You could have asked." He decided to put his new resolution of being less of an ass into practice. "It's not too late to change classes if there's a seat open in Petersen's section."

"I'll check."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, which Edward considered an upgrade from bickering. Reaching the townhouse Edward pulled out his key, unlocking then holding the door open for her.

She walked ahead of him, but turned to reclaim her bag. "Thanks." She reached into the front pocket and pulled out her cellphone. "If you're wondering where I am, this works too."

Of course he could have called, or texted, but for some reason tonight he needed to see her, to be absolutely sure she was all right. Waiting while she slipped off her shoes before he took off his own, he lined his up next to hers. He believed they'd reached a truce. Something about her small slim shoes next to his wider and bigger ones did something to him. As if this was the proper order of things, the two of them side by side. But somehow, he also knew that it couldn't last. They weren't shoes. They were more like two magnets with the same field, too alike to ever stay together, doomed to eventually repel one another.

.

* * *

 **A/N** : due to technology issues, this is coming to you a day early. Next week back to the regularly scheduled Wednesday update


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

.

"I can't believe you're not all over that girl in from rotation." Peter lived a few houses before Edward's place, and while Edward didn't go out of his way to walk with anyone, they walked in the same direction at the same time several times a week. It would have been rude to ignore his fellow med student. They'd been in many classes together through undergrad and now in medical school. If Edward had had time for it, he might have pursued a friendship with the tall, thin man. He was aware a new group of students had come back from their eighteen-month home state rotation however, he had no idea who Peter was talking about.

"Which one?"

"Seriously? The one with the hair down to her ass, looks like that girl from Aladdin. She's exactly your type."

"Who says I have a type?"

"Seriously Cullen? The three girls I've seen you with could be sisters. Long, long dark hair. You certainly have a type. Not that there's anything wrong with that." Peter had reached his house, looking over his shoulder as Edward walked on. "I can't believe you didn't notice her."

Raising his hand in a half wave, Edward considered Peter's words. Yes, he'd always liked girls with long dark hair, but he didn't realize he'd been so obvious that a casual acquaintance such as Peter would call him out on it. Bella had noticed right away, but she had an exceptional eye for detail. Few women kept their hair long as they aged, so obviously they were fewer and fewer in number among his peers. As such an anomaly, normally he would have immediately picked this new woman out of the crowd to watch as a potential partner. How was it possible that Peter had noticed this new person before Edward? It didn't make sense.

Head down, he continued home. The streetlight in front of their house was out; he'd send a strongly worded email to the corporate headquarters of the complex as soon as he got in. With the days getting shorter it was imperative that the house be properly illuminated. Edward stopped to examine the fixture. The glass dome was intact, so it had to have been a burnout, not a well-aimed stone. Since Bella had expressed her misgivings over the grungy blonde boy he'd kept an eye out for him but he'd never seen the sorry excuse for a student again. Surely the broken light was a coincidence, blondie didn't look to have the wherewithal to disable the light without smashing it.

He'd memorized the shape of his keys long ago, so he didn't have a problem locating the right one. The point was he shouldn't be in the dark doing it. He imagined Bella fumbling for her keys in the dark, dropping them, rendering her helpless. Well, maybe not helpless, but certainly vulnerable. He didn't like the way Grunge Boy had looked at her, as if she were a trinket, something he'd like to possess. Surely he had never looked at a girl that way. He felt a nagging sense of guilt that indeed he had looked at girls as lovely things instead of whole beings. If so, that was in the past. Surely he'd matured, or his mother would have called him out on it. Yes, certainly, his mother wouldn't let him behave like such a cad.

As he finally opened the door his first thought was that the townhouse had been turned into a candle shop. The overwhelming scent of cinnamon and apple filled the air. Could Bella have invited someone over? Was she trying to impress them with this delicious but overdone assault on the senses? If she'd asked him, and she hadn't; though he had resolved to be more friendly to her the reality was between his schedule and hers they were rarely together in the townhouse for getting to know you chats, but back to the point, if she'd asked he would have told her that most men do not enjoy the overuse of scent. Women who doused themselves in perfume were repulsive to Edward. He'd walked out of elevators and changed seats in the theater when someone with an excess of perfume planted themselves near him.

The clatter of metal coming from the kitchen didn't prepare him for the industrial sized pots atop the stove nor the boxes of jars on the counter or Bella, her head covered with a red bandana wearing shorts and a tank top, working with a cutting board and a tub of apples. The kitchen fan couldn't keep up so the room was as steamy as a sauna. A delectable smelling sauna, but still.

"What's all this?"

She startled for a moment, dropping half an apple. She picked it up and held it out to him. "Wash this off."

He complied, rinsing the fruit in the sink over the largest colander he'd ever seen. Taking the apple back she sliced it in quarters, adding it to yet another enormous pot.

She worked quickly, slicing more apples, leaving the peel and the seeds but discarding the stems.

His mother always chattered away while cooking, he only had to listen and he learned more than he wanted to about the recipe, her day, and why eggs from free range chickens were healthier than cage raised. He'd assumed that such a running narrative was a quality of being a woman. Bella was again making him work for something he'd just assumed before. Not wanting to look like an idiot, he took his best guess. "Applesauce?"

"Apple butter."

He waited for her to continue, but the only sound was the whirling of the dishwasher and the gentle plop of the potion cooking on the stove.

"You leave the seeds in?"

"And skin. Adds pectin. Makes it thicker. I strain them out later."

He couldn't understand why she had decided to make apple butter with mid-terms around the corner. He was familiar with each of her six courses and they required a tremendous amount of reading. Could this be her version of relaxing?

"You're ready for mid-terms?"

"No." She turned to the stove, lifted the lid and stirred. "My mother burned the batch she tried to make. Our cinnamon-apple butter is one of her biggest sellers. She has standing orders for two hundred jars, and she's going to a farmer's market this weekend. She needs them."

From this angle he could see more boxes of empty jars in the living room. There was days of work here. "So your mother just dumped this all on you? During mid-terms?"

"Apples are best in the fall." She glanced at him for a second, wiping her face with the bottom of her apron, then fetched the apples from the sink.

His mother would have never even considered such a thing. She'd brought him things for reading week and exam time before: care packages with frozen meals, power bars and healthy snacks, never asking him to do tasks that she could do on her own. Renee took a dive in his estimation. He had reading to do and he had an eight o'clock lecture in the morning. It was nearly nine, and he had allocated three hours for reading and an hour for reviewing his notes before he went to sleep. Part of him wanted to lock himself away with his books and pretend this sweat shop was not going on in his home. Edward thoughts of the incident in the park with the bees. Her quick thinking had probably saved his life. He owed her something in return. A few months ago he would have just continued up the stairs, but something had changed in him. The new Edward couldn't leave her to all this.

"What can I do?"

He supposed he'd earned the shocked look she gave him. After a beat of silence, she nodded towards a bowl. "Can you get some more apples? Sorry, I needed a place to rinse them off. They're in your tub."

The apples weren't just in the bathtub. They filled the tub, and bushel baskets containing more of the same were on the floor inside the small room and in the hall. Shaking his head he scooped up apples from the water. He understood Bella, the need to be the best, get the highest grades, to never say no to a challenge. He had the same inner drive, but this was ridiculous. Surely the apple butter could wait a week. She must have solid reasoning behind her decision so he ignored the fact that she'd used his bathroom without permission and had turned the townhouse into a commercial kitchen. He filled the bowl.

They worked in parallel, him doing the tasks she assigned him, quietly and efficiently. This was how he liked to work, without an excess of chatter. She measured precisely: cinnamon, allspice, lemon, apple cider vinegar, water, and from a bag marked 'organic fair trade sugar.' She explained the process of sterilization and mashing and canning, but without the flowery adjectives his mother would have used. It was as if she was explaining a chemical formula or reciting the lab directions for an experiment. He liked her clear cut instructions. She took a teaspoon full from one of the pots that had been going for a while and mounded the contents onto a plate. "See that, it's not weeping. This batch is done." She blinked up at him, then back to the plate. "Do you want a taste?"

He imagined her swiping her finger through the apple butter and holding it up to his lips. Instead she handed him the testing spoon. "Watch out, it's still hot."

The scent of the apples, her plump lips, her pale hands holding out the spoon for him…it was as if she were a modern Eve, sent to tempt him. "Just put it down. I'll try it when it cools off."

The analogy wasn't lost on him. He needed to cool off as well. Where was his clinical detachment when it came to this girl, this interloper in his life? She'd begun to slice again. There was a safe subject. "You've got some skills with a knife. Going into surgery?"

She laughed, sweet and clear. "I don't know about cutting people. Or doctoring people. Maybe research. I like chemistry."

"Why do you want to work with chemicals? People are fascinating." She didn't answer so he took the opportunity to taste his cooled spoonful of apple butter. Sweet and spicy, he was about to tell her how good it was when she began to speak.

"Chemicals do what's expected of them, time after time." She concentrated slicing the apple on her cutting board. She started another before she continued. "You can tell a person to stop smoking, and even after she gets sick, she'll be sneaking cigarettes after chemo on the back deck, saying they relax her."

In one of his mother's information dumps, she'd mentioned Bella and Renee staying with Renee's mother until she died. He took an educated guess. "Your grandmother? Lung cancer?"

"Yes."

He wished every question to her wasn't such a land mine. There was so much he didn't know, and he had to admit, he wanted to know her. He realized she wasn't going to expand on her quiet 'yes' answer, so he retreated to a safe topic.

"I have access to a number of textbooks on audio. Would you like to check if what you—"

"Really? That would be great!" She looked at him with the first grin he'd ever seen on her face.

It was the same reaction he got the time he brought Jessica flowers and some silly earrings for her birthday. Another way he and Bella were similar, learning wasn't just a means to an end, it was a passion for them. He got up to retrieve his laptop. His parent's had arranged for him to have access to a service that was meant to help blind people and those with reading disabilities. He wasn't quite sure it was ethical, but knowing his mother she'd have made a significant donation to the organization that compiled the texts so he didn't feel guilty using it. He located Bella's textbook and queued her up. He found the reading he needed and played it through his iPod. The two of them listened and worked. It reminded him of his parents doing the Times crossword puzzle together, each with their own copy, silent but for an occasional groan of irritation at the puzzle maker. He liked it.

~T~

She took her earbuds off after an hour. He was ready to take a break as well and removed his, leaving them around his neck.

She looked at him sideways, her one check lifted in an odd smile. "I thought you were make believe."

"What?" He looked at her, expecting a smirk but her expression was serious.

"You know like Santa and the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny. Things adults tell you to get you to buy into their mythology or force compliance. I thought 'Edward the perfect boy' was a character my mother made up to get me to behave. You were always polite, shook hands with your teachers, turned in projects on time and made your bed."

"Oh she totally made that last bit up. Ask my mother, I never make my bed at home." He laughed, enjoying this happier memory from her life.

"When I was ten my mother started in with more 'Edward' stories. I told her I knew 'Edward' was imaginary, and she could quit her coercion tactics. She laughed and showed me your mother's Facebook page. I was pissed that you were real."

Edward imagined a miniature Bella arguing with Renee. "You said coercion tactics? You were ten!"

She flicked a jar lid at his face. "Shut up."

~T~

As she fished out another processed jar from the boiling water, holding the tongs carefully, he was amazed at her precision and surety even after hours of work. The folding table he'd set up was covered with cooling jars, as well as the dining room table, the living room coffee table and the end tables, which he'd cleared of lamps and books. The lids had all contracted, as expected, on the first few batches. He touched a jar.

"These are cool enough to handle. Should I box them up?"

"I still have to label them, and tie on a stick of cinnamon. It's our signature look."

"Your mother can't burn labels Bella. Let her put them on."

Bella was down to a sports bra under her apron. Her faced was flushed from the heat and an aura of frizzed hair surrounded her face. "Don't worry about it." He watched her eyes trail over all the jars, he guessed she was counting. Nodding, she said, "It's not just a jar of apple butter, it's our marketing strategy. People come to pick up their jar and they buy other things. I made Renee a website, so she takes internet orders too."

"You do so much for her."

"I'd like her to be self-sufficient at some point."

Maybe it was the hour, but Edward couldn't hold his tongue. "You speak as if she's the child."

She continued inventorying their work, inspecting every jar. He determined that he wasn't going to get an answer when she started. "Renee has abandonment issues which led to attachment issues. Her father walked out when she was seven. After my grandmother died she dated, or married and left, a series of men, left them before they could leave her. It's classic behavior. It's only a matter of time before she leaves Charlie."

"But he's your father."

"So she says. I didn't meet him until I was thirteen. Where was he? Maybe Renee has him convinced, but not me."

He remembered Charlie from the one time he'd driven past his house. The loud motorcycle, the shouting. The man had definitely been in Renee's life at the right time, but he couldn't remember what the argument was about. Did Charlie even know Renee was pregnant when she left? She could have cheated on him, maybe that's why they fought. He wished he could remember what had been said, but only the angry tone of their voices remained in his memory. He could still summon the roar of the bike leaving, Renee crying, and his vow to love her forever.

It struck him suddenly that he was years older than Renee had been at the time. He still hadn't figured out the romantic part of his life, strange that he expected eighteen year old Renee to know exactly what to do.

"And what's your goal? She becomes self-sufficient and then what?"

"Then she won't be afraid. Then she can be happy with herself, and maybe find happiness with someone else. And I can move on and live my life without worrying about her."

He wanted to ask her what she was looking for in life, but he didn't know how to frame the question. He wasn't her brother or boyfriend. Shouldn't she be looking after her own happiness?

"Thanks for your help." She sighed, hands on her hips. "Go to bed, I don't want to get in trouble with your parents for keeping you up past 3:30."

"Sleep deprivation sort of goes with being a medical student."

"Yeah, but this isn't your obligation. Go to bed, I'm going up soon too."

Yawning, he walked up the stairs. Somehow he felt like a kiss had been in order. He wanted to give one, the question was did she want to get one. He felt something had changed between them, but he wasn't sure if it was comradery or mutual respect or mutual attraction. It would be exceptionally awkward if the attraction was all him.

~T~

He could still smell the apples, even after hosing down the tub with the shower head. Despite his claims to the contrary, he didn't enjoy staying up most of the night. After dressing he donned a clean lab coat and pounded down the stairs.

The jar-covered tables were cleared. The cartons the empty jars had arrived in were stacked four high in the foyer. He lifted a flap of the unsealed box and saw rows of jars, labeled and decorated with a piece of twine and a cinnamon stick. He'd never felt so unworthy.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Trichophilia** was featured in the fic dive at _**A Different Forest**_. Thanks Ladies!

This chapter is slightly early. Don't get used to it.

Rec: **The Librarian** by Spanglemaker9 s/11582254/1/ Hot yet funny one shot. Go read it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **.**

As Edward came up the path to the townhouse, Bella bolted out, calling over her shoulder, "There's baked pasta in the fridge. Still warm."

Taking the steps two at a time he paused to toe off his shoes then rushed the refrigerator, grabbed a fork and began eating the heavenly leftovers. He moved over to the kitchen window, watching as Bella speed walked down the sidewalk until she was out of sight. She was always walking away, or he was, one arriving while the other raced off. Lectures, study groups, projects, the library, the lab or the hospital, there was always somewhere to get to. But in the Venn diagram that was their existence, a tiny segment of their circles overlapped, a shaving thin slice of intersection that was the sweetest part of the week for him. A shared pot of coffee, a warning about the weather as they passed on the stairs, a complaint about the maintenance man, who'd still failed to replace the missing bulb on their porch light. There was something about these moments that warmed him.

What was it about her? The hair, of course, but her drive, her intellect, her ability to turn a phrase, to make him smile. He'd had several physical relationships, but felt greater intimacy when they sat at the breakfast bar, when she waved at him from across the commons, even when she left some dinner for him when she made extra, and she seemed to make extra quite often. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He hated the phrase 'she completes me', but there was something to this feeling. In one of his childhood favorite books, Doctor Dolittle, there's a moment when the floating island is rejoined to the part of the continent from which it broke off. Even as a child he knew that it was entirely impossible. In the years the island had been drifting both parts would have changed. Yet, still there was something in that thought, that your perfect other half was waiting for you, somewhere in the world, that entranced his younger self. Now his older self was succumbing as well. But it was all so improbable, that his babysitter's daughter would be his, another wretchedly overused term, 'soulmate', and what would be worse, a million times worse, was if he had built up this notion in his head of this great love that was possibly, entirely, one sided.

She didn't give off any of the signs of interest he was used to. No candles on the table when he got home nor open bottles of wine, no blouses with too many undone buttons. She had every opportunity to waltz around in tiny shorts and a lacy camisole but her night wear covered far more skin than they revealed. And the hair, he couldn't say anything about her hair. She'd grown it out for years before she ever had any idea that they'd meet. She couldn't have known it was his kryptonite while she was a child fending off her mother's attempt to trim her locks. No, Bella's childhood was spent creating a website for her mother, doing Renee's taxes, trying to handle the fragile psyche of her mother, which should never be a child's job, even if the child is gifted beyond her years. What she did, she did for her mother and herself. He felt like a planet being passed by a shooting star; if he wasn't careful her light was going to blind him. And, as he glanced at his clock, all this dreaming about his phantom relationship with Bella was destroying his schedule. He'd made it a point to come back to the townhouse when he had a break midday on the hope that she'd still be there, but his session had run over. Finishing the last bits of delicious pasta, he thought it hadn't been a total waste, but still, he needed to leave five minutes ago

Peter emerged from his place holding a dark green drink while pulling the hood of his jacket over his head against the drizzle.

Edward hustled over to his parking space. It was easier to drive the short distance to the hospital. He didn't like to rely on the sporadic university shuttle.

Peter jogged towards the car. "Can I catch a ride?"

Edward clicked his key fob and nodded.

"Thanks." Peter buckled his seat belt and set about donning his laminated school id. "Why doesn't your girlfriend ride with you?"

"What girlfriend?"

"The one you're shacking up with? Long hair, tight—"

"Bella is my roommate, not my girlfriend. And keep your comments to yourself."

"If she's not your girlfriend, what do you care?"

"It's about respect, nothing more."

"So if I asked her out?"

"I would slip something noxious into those green shakes you insist on drinking. Or more noxious, those things are vile."

"You sure you're not hitting that?"

"I don't have time for _that_. And she's an undergrad."

"There's always time for _that_."

"Just look for a parking space." He was irrationally irked by Peter's comments. In the past they'd behaved like most young men, passing judgement on various girls and women around them based on the appeal of their body parts. He never took it too seriously, it was a game. He'd never be so disrespectful in person. A shared politically incorrect observation among peers, that's all it was. The idea of Peter looking to make a move on Bella, when he didn't even know her…did he need to remind himself again that he wasn't her brother or father or boyfriend? If someone else was attracted to her he'd, he'd—He looked over at Peter unbuckling and felt a wave of animosity. This girl was ruining him.

~T~

He took a deep breath as he entered his apartment. Since cohabitating with Bella, the roster of smells had become much more interesting. Nothing like apple butter night had reoccurred. He detected a hint of baking dough and melting cheese—hopefully she'd made another homemade pizza. He wasn't so forward as to suggest or ask that she make one of his favorites, but he could hope.

She came out of her room and dashed down the stairs with a smile. "Pizza's almost done. Did you eat?" She said it fast, like one word 'Didjaeat?' The first time she'd said it, it took him a moment to decipher, but now he'd become accustomed to her lingual idiosyncrasies. Since she and Renee had drifted across the country, while Bella claimed not to have any regional accent, Edward noticed she'd picked up colloquialisms like souvenirs. He'd even heard her say 'y'all' a time or two before she caught herself.

He shook his head. "I didn't eat. Do I have time for a shower?" He liked to wash the hospital off of himself before he settled in for the evening. He heard the squeak of the oven door opening.

"Maybe four minutes cooking time, five minutes to cool. You got nine minutes."

In ten minutes he was towel dried and dressed in a fresh tee shirt and sweats. Bella sat on one end of the small sofa. He planted himself in the open seat, inhaling the aroma coming from two steaming slices of pizza waiting for him on the coffee table, along with a glass of iced tea. Neither of them liked soft drinks and he never drank alcohol during the school week. There was a bowl of salad out for him as well. The salad, as Bella had explained, was to give your mouth something to do while waiting for the pizza to cool. Hers was almost gone.

The news program he like to watch was on the TV, but he was focused on the pizza, blowing on the triangle until he dared to take a bite. His mother never got the knack of a crispy crust, but Bella's was perfect, the crunch, the doughy center then the melted cheese with a perfect proportion of tomato. He was so involved in enjoying the flavors that he missed what she was saying. "Hmm?"

"I said I need to call your mother. She said to keep an eye out for another roommate and I have a name for her."

Swallowing quickly the pizza went down like a giant lump. "When did she say that?"

"The day I moved in. She said you never use the stuff in the third bedroom and she'd be happy to bring it home if I found someone."

"That's ridiculous. We've got too much going on, we're too serious about our studies to have someone come and disrupt our system." He'd didn't want anyone interfering in the fine balance they had, asking questions, maybe trying to drag Bella out to parties or such. No, no, he'd have a talk with his mother.

"It's a nursing student, a friend of a friend. He says the group he's rooming with now is too wild. He wants someplace quieter."

"He?" Of course Edward knew nurses were both male and female but he wanted to be sure. Maybe the friend was male and the potential roommate was female. Another female roommate, a studious one, would be bad enough, but a male student? He'd probably spend all his time trying to impress Bella, eating her cooking—he looked at the slice of pizza in his hand and put it down. No, that was his pizza and all the future pizzas were his as well, no sharing with anyone else.

"He. I told your mother we could do a preliminary interview to see if we would—"

"Bella, I don't think another roommate is a good idea."

"But I'm not paying anything. I feel obligated, since you're mother asked me, particularly since you didn't have time to search for anyone—"

"I'm just barely able to function with you here. We'll just tell her that no one worked out."

"But the money, I feel—"

"My parents can afford it. What's more important, good grades or a few dollars a month?"

"I don't feel right about this. I can't lie to your mother."

"Please, I'm begging you. I'll do anything, order in food for a month, clean the bathrooms, drive you to class."

Bella sat, daintily biting and chewing her food. It seemed she wasn't going to budge. Finally, after finishing her slice, she spoke. "There is something I can't do on my own. I didn't want to ask you, but…."

Having spent a lifetime with his mother's oversharing, he waited for her to elaborate. What couldn't this woman do on her own? She was asking him for help—it was a first, even the night of a million apples she hadn't asked him, he'd pushed his way into assisting her. And then it hit him.

His favorite meal, hot and ready when he got home. His program on the television. He glanced at Bella, from her hair loose from her usual braid, flowing over her shoulder to her lap, the new plaid pajama pants and fitted tank top. Her precious request for help, from the girl who did everything on her own. Obviously, there was something she couldn't do on her own… was this was her version of seduction?

That had to be it.

He dabbed his face with the napkin, not wanting their first kiss to be the wrong kind of messy. "I see what you're doing, and it's not necessary."

"How do you even know? I haven't explained. In my opinion it is necessary, and -"

He scooted over to the middle of the sofa, his thigh touching her knee. "Shush." He put a finger gently against her lips. Her eyes popped wide open, and she moved her head away from his hand. "You made me a delicious meal, tried to make me jealous with this made up male roommate, you're all cozy on the couch—I think it's clear that you're seeing what I'm seeing."

"And what exactly would that be?"

"That you're perfect for me. Smart, beautiful, a great cook. Of course there's the hair. We have a definite physical attraction. You didn't have to go through all this to let me know, but I appreciate it."

Bella had flopped back into the corner of couch, sputtering like a boiling teakettle. "What?"

He took her position as an invitation and leaned over her body, waiting for her to close her eyes so he could kiss her. Maybe she didn't understand how these thing worked, maybe she'd never been kissed? He'd lead by example. Closing his eyes he puckered and moved to where he last saw her lips, but got a mouthful of throw pillow instead.

It was his turn to sputter, "What the hell?"

Bella had scrambled out from under him and was now standing across the room. "I'm perfect for you? I'm trying to seduce you? That's what you think this is about?"

"What else could it be?"

"I need help collecting Charlie's DNA."

Edward pulled himself back to a seated position. How could he have misread her so badly? She didn't move or say anything else, so my help in collecting Charlie's DNA must have been her objective all along. The only reason she could want Charlie's DNA was to test for paternity.

He'd pushed it to the back of his mind, but this largess of his parents towards Bella had never rung true to him. He'd let himself ignore the possibility as he grew more enamored of Bella. If she had doubts, shouldn't he? She was his babysitter's daughter, but was there the faintest possibility that she was something more? His father wouldn't, would he? The thought of almost kissing his possibly half-sister turned his stomach. He didn't want to share that idea, if she didn't suspect he didn't want to poison her thinking. She was staring at him, waiting for a response, so he gave the simplest reply he could. "Why?"

"Don't you pay attention? Isn't it odd that Renee finds my father after so many years? I'm not convinced. I want to find out if he's really my father. If I should try to have a relationship with him, independent of what my mother does. It would only make sense if he was really…" Bella seemed to deflate, and folded onto the floor. She grabbed her slice of pizza. "Forget it. Forget I asked." She chewed fiercely and swallowed before looking back at him. "And the roommate isn't made up. I'm calling your mother tomorrow."

"Don't call my mother!" The thought of getting used to a third person, on top of the embarrassing position he was now in, of having pounced on Bella to her shock and horror, and the reminder that she might be related, horrifying himself, made him shout a bit louder than was appropriate. Someone in the adjoining unit pounded on the wall. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Don't call my mother. Please. But how are we going to collect your fath—Charlie's DNA?"

"For God's sake Edward, we're both supposed geniuses. If we can't figure out a way I feel sorry for the rest of humanity."

"Still. He believes he's your father, he's married to your mother. Who's on your birth certificate?"

"Yes, of course!" She threw her hands over her head. "Why didn't I think to check my birth certificate? Those are never falsified!"

"That's not my point. You don't need to have a biological connection to form a relationship. He clearly wants to be your father." He patted the sofa beside him. "Tell me why this is so important to you."

She tilted her head, glaring at him.

"I swear I won't try anything." He returned to his former seat and put his hands up in surrender mode. "Message received."

She returned to her place on the sofa, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. "Mom's first husband moved us to New Hampshire. His mom, Granny Lynn, was great, treated me like I really was her granddaughter. One night my mother gets me up, drags me out to her car. She'd packed all our clothes and we drove all night. I woke up in North Carolina. She divorced Daddy Roger and I never saw Granny Lynn again. My mother said she'd want nothing to do with me since we weren't blood."

"I hope you didn't believe her."

She shook her head. "I booked a plane ticket using my mother's credit card, but when the car service showed up the guy wouldn't take a seven year old to the airport."

He chuckled, imagining a little Bella trying to reason with the driver. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you gave him a sound argument." He covered his mouth, "Go on."

"Mom did a better job keeping track of her card after that. Someone finally answered Granny Lynn's phone." Bella looked at the floor. "She'd had a heart attack. I never spoke with her again."

Edward took another bite and chewed slowly, weighing Bella's words. He knew people, he could certainly get a DNA test done. "I still don't understand your urgency. You could have done this anytime, why now?"

"My mother's past relationships ranged from five to seventeen months. Charlie is closing in on two years."

"Isn't that a good thing? Maybe this one will stick."

"Five failed relationships in a twelve year span? Run a probability formula for number six, you'll reach the same conclusion."

"But human emotions don't conform to probability/outcome ratios. The heart wants what it wants."

"But my mother doesn't know what she wants. And Charlie-" She wiggled her feet. He hadn't noticed the light blue slippers. "He sent me these and flannel pajamas. He was worried I might be cold after living in the South."

Bella stroked the slippers, and he could see they meant more to her than the fact they kept her toes warm. She was afraid of developing emotions for another person who'd be ripped away from her. She had sound reasoning. Renee was flighty and might indeed want to leave, and Bella, being the loyal daughter her mother didn't deserve, would follow her. That couldn't happen. As little as he liked to concede that he'd been outmaneuvered, as he glanced at the pizza crust and ice tea, it was clear he'd been set up and hooked by a master. He had something at stake as well; he needed to know if Bella was forever off limits to him. There wasn't another choice.

"Fine. Let's do it."

.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to **Cousin Beta** for fixing my boo-boos!

For those who don't have me on author alert, I posted a little story titled The Last Trick or Treater on Halloween. It's calorie free! I'm not sure why I have food in every chapter, it just seems to work out that way. I'm am trying to respond to every review but sometimes it gets too crazy, but know I read and appreciate all of them, and all the follows and favs. Thanks for the love. And it seems I have a love for the letter T. My stories, Tequila Sunrise, Trichophilia, and The Last Trick or Treater. Is there such a thing as a letter-phile?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

.

It was amazing how easily their parents could be controlled. Edward sent an email to his mother and Bella called hers with the same message. They had too much schoolwork to allow them to return home for Thanksgiving. In less than an hour, the response. All four parents would come to them bearing a holiday feast, thinking it was all their idea.

~T~

Five tiny pumpkins were lined up on the breakfast bar. Bella sat on the stool with a sixth, writing with a fat, noxious smelling pen.

"Little late for Halloween, isn't it?" He didn't really care about her decorating, he'd hoped she'd cooked something for dinner but there was no evidence of food. He shook out his hair, damp from the evening drizzle.

"These will function as place cards." She turned the one she was holding to face him. His father's name was written there in a very professional hand.

"If med school doesn't work out you could make a living painting pumpkins. Nice lettering."

"These are gourds, not pumpkins. In retail, attractive signage draws attention to your product." She put down the one in her hand and picked up a blank. "Will there be an issue that I'm using everyone's first name? I thought two 'Mom's' would be confusing, and I can't bring myself to label Charlie as Dad."

He nodded in agreement, though Charlie seemed much more like Dad material now than the first time Edward saw him. "Does he still ride a motorcycle?"

"Charlie? A motorcycle? You've got to be kidding. If I may quote," Bella lowered her voice, "Those death machines should be outlawed. I better never catch you on one, ya hear."

"That's hypocritical. He seemed rather attached to the monster I saw him riding."

"Crap!" Bella grabbed a napkin and began wiping at her work. "Recently? You saw him on one?"

"Not recently. When I was five, he showed up in front of my house on this enormous black motorcycle. He and Renee argued. She told him to leave. I didn't see him again until that day in your mother's store."

Bella was focused on the gourd in her hand but she'd stopped writing. "The first time I saw Charlie, he showed up at our apartment in Virginia. She yelled at him to leave before her husband, Daddy Alan got home. Which wasn't true, she was still married but we'd run out on Alan like all the rest. I hid in the bedroom the whole time."

Edward had learned something about Bella in the time they'd lived together. She needed space before she'd share. He examined the water glass sitting on the white napkin. He lifted it up, saw the tiny dot of white nail polish on the base. When he set the glass back down it seemed to disappear, as Bella said it would. Forget decorating pumpkins, the FBI would be lucky to have her.

She put down the third finished gourd. "I asked her who that man was and she said 'your father.' Not 'Daddy' like she called all her husbands. I asked where he'd been for ten years. She said 'Looking for us.' Of course we left that night. My mother is real good at running. I finally met Charlie three years later. He followed Renee home from her job, and wouldn't leave until he met me. Of course that night we left town."

He wanted more of the story. Why did Renee take Bella and leave? Was she afraid of him? If Charlie was legitimately Bella's parent, wouldn't she at least be looking for child support? The whole thing made no sense. He rummaged in the refrigerator, finding a yogurt, which in the past would have been an adequate meal but Bella's cooking had spoiled him.

She placed the sixth place card down, completing the row. "Let these dry."

She gathered her things and retreated to her room. Whatever thoughts were gathering in her magnificent mind she did not plan on sharing tonight.

~T~

He wasn't really paying attention as he filled the big pot using the sprayer. His focus was on Bella bending over to get something out of the back of the refrigerator.

"I knew there was more garlic." She stood, pushing her braid back over her shoulder, holding up the white head of garlic. "Edward!"

Startled, he tipped the sprayer up and doused the front of his shirt.

Bella shook her head. "Really, I don't need your help. Go get changed."

She'd insisted on cooking a few dishes although his mother gladly would have brought everything, down to after dinner mints. It wasn't so much that he wanted to help her in the kitchen as he wanted to avoid Charlie and Renee who'd arrived just after Bella put her apple pie into the oven. They were watching TV as he darted upstairs to change.

Exiting his room with a fresh, dry shirt, Edward was surprised to see Bella's alleged father emerging from his daughter's room.

"Edward." Charlie said it like an accusation.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you knew why my daughter's room was so exceptionally neat."

Why would a parent be concerned if their child's room was neat? Wouldn't the opposite be true for the most part? Edward didn't know what answer Charlie was looking for so he stated the obvious. "Bella wanted her room to look presentable since our parents would be visiting for Thanksgiving?"

"It's pristine."

Again, Edward did not find this to be a flaw. "I trust it is. I haven't been in her room since my mother redecorated it-" He stopped talking suddenly. Was Charlie supposed to know about his mother's preparations or was that still a secret? He looked at the older man, who blocked his way down the stairs with his arms crossed and mustache twitching.

"Has _she_ been in her room?"

What a bizarre question. Why would he ask if Bella had been in her—did he think Bella was sleeping in his room? With him?

The confusion must have shown on his face, and Charlie dove in with another question. "Were you the one that made your parents bring Bella here? So you could take advantage of an innocent, naïve girl?"

Were they even talking about the same person? He had no idea about Bella's sexual experience, but she was anything but naïve. Charlie didn't know the girl he claimed as his daughter if he thought she could be so easily manipulated. Truly, her sleeping in his bed would be a dream come true for Edward, but even if he got the proof that she wasn't related, he didn't ever see it coming to pass. She needed his help with this one 'who's my daddy' project, but beyond that she had no use for him.

"Charlie why are you still upstairs? How long does it take to use the can?" Renee had slipped up behind her husband and tugged him by the arm. "Come on down, I want to watch the parade from New York, it's tradition!"

He didn't remember ever being so grateful to see Renee. Charlie followed her down the stairs, but gave a fierce look over his shoulder back at Edward.

"Edward!" The not naïve and very bossy person, with whom he was not sleeping, called him from the kitchen. "Set the table!" He felt like pointing out to Charlie that he, Edward, was the one being manipulated by a roommate, not the other way around.

His mother was unloading the box of foil covered side dishes. "Let me help honey." His mother's sweet tone was directed at Bella, who answered back a little sharply to his ear.

"No, Edward can handle it!"

He did need to handle it. His task: to place Charlie's water glass with the single dot of nail polish and, unknown to Bella, the glass with two dots that he'd marked for his father. After dinner it was his job to gallantly offer to clear the table, despite his protests that his parents wouldn't buy it, and place the glasses in plastic bags so they could be swabbed for DNA. Just another holiday tradition, testing your relatives to see if they were indeed relatives.

It didn't take long to set a table for six people. The place card gourds were arranged according to plan. Edward set the marked glasses accordingly.

There was barely enough room on the small table for the wine and cranberry sauce, so the turkey and the rest of the meal was staged on the card table in the kitchen. It was all going well until Renee looked at the place markers.

"I want to sit next to Esme! It's our first Thanksgiving in forever!" She swapped her pumpkin out for her husband's, then sat by Charlie's water glass.

Edward glanced to his left. Bella gave a short lift of her head. He didn't know if that meant he should take care of rearranging the glasses or if she would. The worst case would be if they both exchanged glasses, canceling out the other's actions. Swift as ever, Bella brought the water pitcher to the table and began pouring, while the rest of the party took their plates to the kitchen, deftly replacing the marked glass by Charlie's place.

Giving Bella a short nod, Edward left to fill his plate. Returning to the table Renee recited a harvest blessing in what she said was a Native American dialect, and everyone dug in. Between bites, Edward looked across at Charlie, willing him to drink. Too late he realized they should have put extra salt on his food. The man cut up his meat, add a bit of mashed potato, chewed and swallowed. Edward slid his eyes to keep track, between trying to act as if he were enjoying his food. Renee startled him.

"Wow, Edward you must be starving! I asked you if Bella was any trouble."

He glanced over at his roommate, who was turning pink, surely out of mortification that her mother expected her to misbehave. The trouble Bella was causing had nothing to do with childish misdeeds and all to do with his growing attraction to her. The greatest trouble, thinking back to the apple butter night, had been caused by Renee herself. That episode had been put to bed, the apple butter delivered and sold. Was it his place to bring up the issue and defend Bella? He didn't think she'd want to be defended, but he'd really like to have a few words with Renee regarding her child rearing abilities, or lack thereof. Years of dinner parties had taught him the holiday table was not the place to air grievances with guests, as much as he wanted to. Clearing his throat to answer, he realized he was being scrutinized. A glimpse at Charlie showed the man had stopped eating and was observing him closely, which didn't bother Edward at all because at the same time he was guzzling down his water.

Relieved, he turned to Renee, answering honestly. "Bella is extremely devoted to her studies. She works very hard."

From the head of the table his father jumped in. "Speaking of studies, have you decided on majors? I hope you're considering neuro."

Edward's father spoke over him to Bella. It was as if his seat was empty, so fascinated was his father with Bella's course load. Due to interschool stupidity, Bella had to take two classes she wouldn't have needed if she'd stayed in Arizona. The university also required a certain number of credits in a major be taken at the school in order to confer a degree. Despite Bella's appeal, she needed to complete 90 credits at UW to graduate. He eavesdropped on her arguing with the dean, who would not be swayed. He also learned that if she'd stayed at UA this would have been her last undergrad semester, further underlining Renee's selfishness.

Bella focused past him to his father. "Neurobiology and Microbiology for sure. For the third major I'm between Bio chem and Bio stats."

"Bio statistics? I thought you were planning on surgery."

"I'm not sure. I'm thinking about research."

"Test tubes and numbers, come on! Seattle's number one for Emergency Medicine. Now that gets the blood moving. I could tell you-"

"No ER stories at the table." Esme tapped her fork against her plate. "You know the rules."

"Baby, why do you need a third major? I didn't even know you could do that!" Renee lifted her wine glass and took a swig. "You need to relax and have a little fun!"

Did the woman not know her daughter at all? Charlie looked equally baffled. He had a reason for not knowing Bella's thirst for knowledge, but what was Renee's excuse?

On the other hand his father had an absolute gleam in his eye discussing Bella's future. He used to see that gleam directed at him. Was it just that his father loved to see another budding doctor take shape? Or was there a touch of paternal pride? He couldn't tell, and took another bite of stuffing.

Esme and Renee made plans to see a film in an arthouse cinema while they were in town, Bella listened while his (or their) father told some of his tamer ER stories. Only he and Charlie were not involved in conversation. Charlie's eyes moved slowly between Bella and him. Charlie didn't seem to question Carlise's interest in Bella. Was he at all suspicious? The man's entire focus seemed to be on Edward.

He was starting to feel like the subject of a stakeout. There wasn't much he could do, leaving the table would have been rude, and chasing Renee's husband out of the townhouse impossible. He picked up the closest wine bottle and poured the last of it into his glass, taking a long drink.

"Charlie, you've got to try this Pinot Grigio." Carlisle was taking advantage of the fact that he wasn't driving, since they were sleeping in the spare room, and uncorked a third bottle. Renee and his mother were happily toasting to the peas with tempeh bacon, the mashed potatoes, basically anything was cause for another swig. Only Bella and Charlie weren't drinking. She was underage, though that had never stopped his parents from giving him a glass on a holiday. As a police officer, perhaps Charlie was a bit more rigid.

"No thanks." Charlie was stern, protecting his glass with his hand while Carisle continued to try to serve him the white wine.

Edward wasn't interested if Charlie drank wine, he wanted the man to take another slobbery drink of water. His mustache obscured Edward's view, so he wasn't sure if enough saliva had been deposited to produce a specimen.

"You can take a cab to the hotel!" Carlisle topped off everyone else's glass before returning to Bella's father, holding the bottle over his glass.

"Come on, it's Thanksgiving!" Esme bumped Renee with her shoulder. "Tell him to lighten up!"

Renee didn't say anything, looking between her husband and her daughter, raising her eyebrows.

Charlie cleared his throat, then spoke quietly. "Look, I'm an alcoholic. Sober three years, six months and eight days."

The table went silent. Edward looked at Bella, whose expression told him she had no idea.

Edward's father put down the bottle. "I'm sorry I couldn't take a hint."

"I, um…" Charlie started, but Bella got up from her seat and ran up the stairs. Edward didn't feel himself moving, but he was right after her, stopping her from closing her bedroom door until he slid into the room.

He was at a loss now that he was there. He wasn't good at comforting people in general, and what to say in this situation? He shouldn't have worried, since the usually terse Bella had no problem speaking on this subject. He sat on her armchair, giving her room to pace as she ranted.

"I can't believe I didn't notice that he never took a drink! Yes, I knew 'no drinking and driving', 'no drinking on the job', or he'd say he didn't like the brand of beer they had on tap or he got a headache from hard liquor. They've been married a year, he never found a moment to tell me? And she knew, my mother knew. Isn't this something you tell your child? And they decide to drop the bomb on a holiday, in front of your parents, your perfect parents? What must they think about us? About me? Just the freeloading daughter of a drunk?"

"Bella, stop." Renee had come in the unlocked door, holding her arms out to her daughter. "I'm sorry it came out that way. I didn't know how to tell you."

"How 'bout 'my husband is an alcoholic?' How hard is that to say? How long have you known?"

Edward wondered how he could escape. Bella was red, on the cusp of crying, which he couldn't bear to see. Renee already had tears coming down her cheeks, but he had no patience for her. It was a tremendous thing to hide from her daughter, a vital piece of information. He and Bella were alike in that knowledge was their gold standard. Facts, truths, were their currency. He wondered if Renee realized how deeply she'd betrayed her daughter by hiding the truth.

"Baby, I knew a long time. I grew up with a drunk for a father. That's why I wouldn't let Charlie near you. I told him he couldn't be part of our lives until he was sober."

The wretched door opened again, this time the man of the hour was behind it.

Bella had stopped pacing, and stood staring blankly out the window, her arms wrapped around herself. She shook off the hand her mother put to her shoulder.

Crossing the room Charlie gave him the eye. Edward got up quietly and edged around the man and out of the room. He heard him say, "I was a functional alcoholic…" before he closed the door.

He took a few deep breaths at the top of the stairs until he heard the tinkle of glasses clinking together. Tromping down the stairs he arrived in the kitchen only to see his mother rinsing a water glass, the other five glasses already washed and upside down drying on a dishtowel.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thanks to my faithful **Cousin Beta** who helps despite broken computers, broken cars and the general madness of RL. Many thanks for **Cullenosopy** for coming up with my new favorite word, _trichotequilatreatpheelya_. Notice the abundance of 'T's.

Yes, a triple major is unusual but possible. Multiple degrees are possible, but only conferred if the majors are different enough: as in one would result in a Bachelor of Arts and one would result in a Bachelor of Science degree. If you have three majors which would all fall under BS, you get only one degree.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

.

.

He hadn't been lying when he told his parents he needed study time over the holiday weekend. Now the trick was to get out of the townhouse before his mother started making a big breakfast for which he'd have to consume. He cut into Bella's apple pie, ignored in the whispered dissolution of their holiday meal, eating the slice over the sink in four bites. Grabbing his backpack he quietly opened the front door, only to see a pair of legs standing on a ladder blocking his way. Twisting his neck he saw Charlie with a screw driver, tightening the screw to the glass fixture. There was enough room on the landing for him to stand, so he closed the door behind him.

Charlie didn't pause in his work. "Noticed this light was out when we left. Good thing no one fell."

Meaning Bella. Meaning he, Edward, was less of a man because he wasn't taking care of the woman in residence.

"I don't have a ladder. Maintenance—"

"Ray from maintenance lent me the ladder." The older man climbed down, his breath clouding in the cold air. "I know you don't think much of me."

"That's not true. I barely know you."

"But I know your type. You've had everything handed to you. Bella's had to work hard, partly because of me not being there." Charlie looked away from Edward. "Things are different now. That little girl means the world to me."

"She's not a little girl." He couldn't hold back his opinion. "She's brilliant and hardworking but when you don't tell her the truth you ignore all that."

"That's not the kind of thing you tell a kid. "

"Funny, Renee lets her run a business for her, but she's too immature to be told you're an alcoholic? You act like she's an indentured servant. You treat her like a child when it's convenient and an adult when it suits you." He hadn't planned the outburst, but he was glad he'd said what he had.

"That's not true."

"Renee thought it was okay to drop a shitload of work on Bella while she's studying for exams. You move her here, pull her out of her university. Did you think of her at all when you decided to blow up her plans?" He shifted from foot to foot. "You and Renee need to apologize."

"I don't need to apologize to you."

"Bella's the one who deserves an apology." What was he doing, starting something with this man? Charlie's relationship with Bella wasn't his business. He agreed to help her collect the DNA sample, not to give parenting advice to a man who clearly didn't want to hear it. "Just because Renee has no respect for education doesn't mean—"

"What do you mean by that? You know nothing about us. Renee and I wanted to settle down someplace for good, so Bella has a real home for once."

"And pull her out of school where she could have graduated this term? Renee tells her to stop working so hard, to have some fun instead of supporting Bella's decisions. She's brilliant. She needs—" She needed someone like his father, someone who respects her drive, can comprehend her potential, and knows how academia works. His father had been his cheerleader and guide as long as he could remember. Bella had been fighting to get everything he took for granted. For her sake, Carlise being her father might be the best thing. For Bella. For him it would be his own special kind of hell. "I heard Renee didn't get her GED until Bella graduated high school. What kind of example is that?"

"That's funny coming from you." Charlie stepped towards Edward, putting his finger on his chest. "You're the reason she dropped out!"

"Did you forget you promised me a ride?" Messenger bag over her shoulder, a scarf wrapped around her neck, Bella appeared in the doorway.

Edward had never promised Bella a ride, she'd never asked, so when she tilted her head, as if expecting a response from him he answer, he answered slowly. "I…forgot."

"I fixed the light." Charlie was suddenly busy folding the ladder and leaned it against the wall. "Bella, your mom sure would like it if you spent some time with her. Can't you go to that movie thing with her and Esme or something?"

"Dad, I told you we needed to study this week. I'm meeting my group in the student center."

"I can drive you, I'll just bring this ladder back."

"Dad, that's okay. Edward is going in the same direction."

Edward nodded, knowing the best thing to do was to play along.

"Okay sugar." Charlie patted his pockets. "You need some money?"

"I'm good. Hey, bend down, you got something in your hair."

Charlie tilted forward and Bella touched his scalp with both hands, twirled a finger around a piece of his hair and tugged.

He saw Charlie flinch but assumed he was too manly to complain. She flicked one hand over the railing, tucking the other in her pocket. "It was a bug."

It was odd, he and Bella walking to his car as if they did this every day when they'd never ridden in his car together. Despite their recent détente, his car was new territory.

He considered opening her door for her but quickly dismissed the idea. She wouldn't like it and he was sure Charlie was watching his every step. Doing nothing that would suggest boyfriend type behavior was imperative.

He started the car and backed up. She buckled then began rifling through his glove box.

"What are you looking for?"

"An envelope, a baggie, something." She pushed his elbow off the center console, pulling out an unused Starbucks napkin. Unfolding the napkin on her lap, Edward watched as she examined a single dark hair. "The follicle is intact." She placed it in the center of the tan paper then folded it from all ends, slipping the bundle back into her pocket.

While he was arguing with Charlie, Bella stayed true to the mission. Of course, if he'd attempted to pluck a hair from Charlie's head, he'd have a black eye. "The student center and libraries are all closed through the weekend. So where do you really want to go?"

"I just needed to get out of there."

He nodded in agreement

"Where were you going? Can I go with you?"

"Only if you don't tell anyone."

"Sure Mr. Drama." She made the motion of zipping her lips, then dropped her hands to her lap.

He navigated the few blocks. He glanced at her as he drove, enjoying the forced intimacy of the car. He wouldn't, but he could, reach over the slightest bit and hold the hand she had laying in her lap. If he was a bit bolder, her denim covered knee and thigh were both tantalizingly near. He needed to stop these thoughts, at least until they'd had Charlie's hair analyzed. On one hand the ride was too short, on the other being in public would be easier on his nerves. He navigated into an open spot in front of their destination. "For what it's worth, he really wants to be your father."

"Which will make it all the worse when Renee dumps him."

"He's been trying to be part of your life since you were ten. Doesn't that count for something?"

"And he claims he's cleaned up his act and Renee says Charlie is the love of her life and we're going to be a family forever and ever but here's the thing. I don't believe in fairy tales."

She got out before he cut the engine, slamming the door behind her.

He took his time getting out and retrieving his backpack. It was a little childish, knowing she'd have no clue where to go. He enjoyed having the upper hand for once.

"Why are we at the hospital?"

"Plenty of places to study here."

"They have rooms here for undergrads?"

"I didn't say that. Just walk quickly as if you know where you're going." Edward pulled the lanyard with his ID and hung it over his neck. He nodded at the security guard and headed for a stairwell, Bella on his heels. Two flights down he turned along a corridor, then stopped at an opening draped with dusty plastic sheeting.

"I practically grew up in a hospital. I visited my father all the time, volunteered for years. There's always some section under construction." There was a folding table set up next to a cluster of extra chairs, desks, and panels of construction material. "The designated lounges are too busy. This is my current hidey hole."

He dragged a desk free of the group. "Pull up a chair. When you're set up I'll give you the Wifi password."

Reaching for his water bottle he couldn't believe they'd been there for over an hour. Bella was the ideal study partner. She didn't gossip or make pointless observations about the weather. She didn't care what was on television that night and didn't ask if he liked her outfit. No gum popping, phone buzzing, wrapper crumpling nonsense. He wouldn't mind a little look up now and then, just a peak from her, but no. She was in that study fugue state, where the ideas and concepts were swirling as fast as she could read the words. Every so often there'd be a furious typing on her laptop, fingers hardly able to keep up with her thought process. He too, relished that sensation of discovery. He thrived on knowing things, how the world worked and how the pieces of the Universe's puzzle connected. There were few people of his acquaintance who understood the joy he got from academic research. It wasn't just a task, it was a journey to see what people had discovered before him and a challenge to what he could contribute to the future. He recognized that same drive in Bella. Although she had to take the additional courses to graduate, she didn't see it as a punishment. She wanted to learn about Medical Virology and Bacterial Genetics. She did ask for his help selecting her next semester's course load and she was genuinely excited about Neuropharmacology. They were so alike. Discouragingly alike. He needed to get a sample from his father, but didn't think 'there's something in your hair' would work twice in one day.

"Should I find my own way home?"

He looked up. "Do you think they'll still be there?" He hadn't thought of this consequence when luring their parents to have the holiday at their house; how would they get them to leave? He'd never been in this situation, in the past when he'd had enough togetherness he'd pack up and return to school.

"I'm sure my mother won't leave without saying goodbye and giving me a Reiki massage."

Going home separately to give the appearance that they'd parted ways in the interim would probably be for the best. "I could drop you off around the corner then drive home. Just say I went shopping."

"Oh yes, everyone will believe you went Black Friday shopping."

"Good point." He closed up his laptop. Why did he care if their parents saw that he gave her a ride? "Screw it, we'll just go back together."

"Yes, be bold."

~T~

The porch light gleamed mockingly at him. He found the key, without looking, but the door pushed open. The sound he thought was his neighbors having people over was coming from his home.

"Edward, Bella, just in time!" His mother was putting a platter loaded with sandwiches onto the table. He smelled her turkey soup simmering. The four parents were there, the television blasting. Where was his sanctuary? Didn't they have homes to go to?

"Edward, look what I found in the guest room closet. " His father, wearing his two day 'I'm off duty' beard and old UW sweatshirt, pointed to a chess set, the one his grandfather had given him the year he won regionals, laid out on the end table, the chess clock next to it.

"I rarely have time Dad, that's why it was in the closet."

"Come on, a Blitz game. Five minutes." He looked at Renee. "You remember when I got his first chess clock? Edward loved to play the fast games, or maybe you just liked whacking the clock at the end of each move?"

"I remember." Hand on her chin, Renee looked to be reminiscing. "That's why I got one for Bella. It was the only way anyone could play with her."

"What's Blitz Chess?" Charlie was out of the loop.

"The clock gets hit after you move your piece." Bella picked up the white queen. "You decide before hand how many minutes the game will take. Five minutes is the norm."

"Come on Bella, I haven't had a good game in years." Carlisle turned his head towards his son. "Not since this one moved out."

"Carlisle, they've been studying all day. I think they could use some nourishment, hmm?" Esme shooed Edward away with her hands. "Wash up first, I'm putting out the soup."

Emerging from his bathroom, Edward walked slowly to the bedroom door, half expecting Charlie to be waiting for him again. The hall was empty, he could hear voices coming from downstairs, everyone but Bella. The door to the guest room was ajar. He padded over silently and slipped in. Surely his father would have left a hair or two in the bedding. His mother had struck again. The bed had been stripped, the freshly laundered sheets folded in a stack on the dresser. Toe nail clipping, hair trimming, there might have been something if the rug wasn't freshly vacuumed. He could examine the vacuum cleaner, but knowing his mother she'd already disposed of the bag in the dumpster. His father's razor? Hair stubble might not be as good as a full strand, but it was better than nothing, better than this doubt hanging over his head. Checking the hall bath they'd used, he found only new, still wrapped razors. Going back to the guest room he was determined to turn out his father's overnight case when his dad called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Edward, some of us are hungry!"

Looking down the stair Edward called back, "Just a second", but the flash of his old man's face was all the reminder he needed. His father hadn't shaved in a few days. There's be no evidence in his kit.

Back at the same table where things unraveled yesterday, everyone else was sipping or chewing. He took half a turkey sandwich and opened it to add more cranberry sauce. He noted that all the glasses were filled with apple cider. Was no one going to discuss what went on yesterday? Had everyone made peace with Charlie's revelation? He thought the matter deserved further examination, but he seemed alone in that opinion.

"Strange Movie. Everyone lies down in a bed at the end, and it's implied they all died." His mother patted her lips with a napkin. "I didn't care for it."

Renee reached for more cider. "I thought it was well done. No one knows what happened to the Etruscans. One day they were living their lives, for all anyone knows, the next day a natural disaster, everyone's gone. And the father figure, warning that the end was near, ignored like most prophets. The dying bees were supposed to be their warning but no one paid attention. At least that's my take on it."

"I don't go for those foreign films." Carlisle shook his head. "All subtitles, no action."

"Good thing I have Esme to go with me." Renee patted his mother's hand. "There's a film festival in May, we should shack up here and spend the week."

"We have to!" Esme grabbed Renee's hand. "Carlisle, Bella was saying how nice it was that we could come up anytime to visit."

Edward turned to his side, shocked that Bella would suggest such a thing. The last thing he wanted was his parents popping in whenever they fancied. She didn't say anything but kicked him in the ankle.

His mother tilted her head at his father, the little gesture he'd seen deployed many times when she was trying to get her way. "So, I was thinking maybe it would be better that we didn't try to get another roommate."

Okay, the girl was smooth. Truly the last thing he wanted was a third roommate. With his parent's schedule it was unlikely that they'd suddenly be visiting every weekend. Well played. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the slight curl of a smile on Bella's lips.

His hope of eating the entire apple pie was dashed when Bella brought it to the table, the negative space of the empty wedge twice the size he'd left in the pie plate. Someone else had snuck a slice ahead of dessert. He glanced at Charlie's mustache, sure he'd find some crumbs lingering there. He ate his piece quietly while his parents discussed what they found to be the best route home, Renee agreeing they needed to leave shortly in order to be home by eleven.

The mothers insisted on cleaning up while Carlisle brought their luggage to the car. Charlie had been quiet most of the meal, only making a random mention of the restaurant where they took Bella to dinner for her seventeenth birthday in September, as if Edward was incapable of doing the math. Just one more fatherly warning. Edward still felt the man's eyes on him. He wanted to ask Charlie how he planned to stay dry, he wanted to ask him about his declaration that somehow Edward was the reason that Renee didn't finish high school. Standing on the steps outside wasn't the place to do it. The police officer's silent handshake, firm and lasting a little too long to be comfortable while everyone chattered and hugged around them, sent his message without words. He didn't trust Edward.

Looking out the living room window, Edward shoulders finally relaxed as he watched the tail lights fade. "Coast is clear."

Bella stepped back from the window. "And now, let the wild rumpus start!"

"Did you just quote _Where the Wild Things Are_?"

"Why yes I did." Bella shook her head. "There were many nights I wished I was Max and could sail away."

"I remember your mother reading me that book when she was trying to get me to go to sleep."

"Same."

Tucked in his boyhood bed with the blue comforter under his chin, the sail boat lamp providing a circle of light by the rocking chair, he remembered Renee reading that story as the last book each night. He knew when she pulled it from his bookshelf that story time was almost over. While he was reading more advanced books on his own, hearing the familiar story in her soft voice sent him off to dreamland. Analyzing the memory, he noticed that was rather Pavlovian of her. It was the second time that night he realized he'd misjudged his former baby sitter's intelligence. Her analysis of the film she'd seen with his mother was surprising. Maybe there was a bigger dose of Renee in her daughter than he thought.

"It's a beautiful set. Good weight." Bella stood by the chess set, rolling the white queen in her hand. "I won a wooden set, left it behind in one of Renee's famous dump and runs. Probably pawned for rent money by whoever cleaned out our apartment in Texas."

Another reminder of all the things Bella had lost. He hadn't played in years, one of the things to fall to the wayside when he began to seriously devote himself to his studies. His fingers were itching to touch the pieces. Regulation chess would take too long, but a Blitz game or two? "Fast game? Boards already set up."

"Five minute games, two out of three?"

"Sure." He carried the board to the kitchen table. "White, I presume?"

"Sure." She brought the chess clock, setting it to the side.

They didn't need further discussion, they both knew every rule. He nodded he was ready. "Go!"

Bella slapped the clock to start and she was off, standard opening, slap the clock and it was his turn. These games didn't give you a chance for long winded strategy, it was half instinct, half muscle memory. He'd played bullet chess before but that was too quick, more of a parlor trick than a game. Another pawn, a knight, why is she moving her king, answered by his rook, another pawn gone, her hand was by her knight but she changed her mind, what now her queen? There was no time to mark moves. He imagined this was like fencing, darting in and dodging, looking for an opening while protecting yourself at the same time. Shit, shit, he didn't expect that as she slammed the clock in triumph and held out her hand.

He took it, smooth and warm in his, conceding defeat but enjoying the surrender. He'd never held her hand before and he didn't want to let go, but it had gone on too long.

He wasn't sure who let go first, but his hand was back on the table, still warm where it had touched her. "We said two out of three as I recall."

"Set em up."

They both scrambled to right the pieces and they were off, galloping through another game. He made the mistake of taking his eyes off the board, drawn by the look of total concentration on her face, her bottom lip rolled between her teeth, eyes like lasers and…he missed her move. Quickly he scanned the board but it cost him vital seconds. A few more moves and he could see no way through, she had him cornered.

Her hand was out. "I win."

He took her hand, holding it until she looked in his eyes. She raised an eyebrow when he didn't let go.

"Three out of five."

She nodded, resetting her pieces while he organized his.

Focusing entirely on the board he calculated, maneuvered, faked, and won. A quick handshake and they were off again, knocking discarded pieces to the floor in their haste, shaking the clock as they slammed it in turn. She was wily but he was determined. They were tied, two-two.

Shaking her hand, he looked in her eyes. She was flushed, eyes gleaming. He felt the rush of adrenaline, his heart beating faster. He'd played thousands of games of chess in his lifetime, but never had one felt like foreplay.

"Shall we wager, make it more interesting?" He wanted to wager a kiss, no holds barred straight out of a movie kiss. It didn't have to go further, but he felt if he couldn't hold her in his arms he might crack.

"Please, let's not." She dropped his hand and sat back in her chair, making no move to right the pieces that stood and lay across the board, table, and floor. "I just want something in my life that I do just for fun. This was fun."

Fun wasn't the word he'd use. Exhilarating, magical, a duet played by a perfect pair. This might be the closest he'd ever get to this girl. On Monday, when he'd meet with Peter's friend from the lab, he'd beg him to process the results of Charlie and Bella's hair as quickly as possible. His sanity depended on it.

.

.

 **A/N** :

 **PLEASE READ**** PLEASE READ *** PLEASE READ*** PLEASE READ****PLEASE READ**

Next chapter will have a trigger warning. Sadly, I upset one of my readers when in _Tequila Sunrise_ I wrote about something that was very distressing to her (and others). I know people read fanfic as their happy place. If you have a trigger, message me or scroll all the way down to the bottom of the next chapter where I'll give a quick summary, and you can decide if you wish to read the chapter.

Thanks for the shout out, **Archy12** , my co-diver at _A Different Forest_ . Her story, _After the Wedding_ was featured with _Trichophilia_ in the five Dives of October. I'm honored to be in such company.

Thanks for the tough love from **Cousin Beta.** Sometimes I need a talking to! And thanks to the guest reviewer who suggested looking for stubble in the razor.

The movie Esme and Renee went to was "The Wonders", quirky but a big winner at Cannes


	10. Chapter 10

**TRIGGER WARNING BELOW (Not sexual assault) Scroll to the bottom, below the double lines**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Chapter 10

Longing. He wasn't accustomed to the emotion. In a life of plenty, what he wanted soon came to pass. Material things were provided, joyfully, by his parents. Every goal he'd set, he'd accomplished. Women, girls, had been too easy since he could read their body language and adjust his words accordingly. The exception to this life of ease was sleeping down the hall.

This deep want, this desire that might truly be impossible to ever fulfill haunted him awake and asleep. His logical mind tried to take over. Renee had had many male friends. The likelihood of Bella being his father's child was small. She looked so much like her mother, except for her brown eyes. They were similar to his father's eyes, as well as fifty five percent of the world's population including Charlie. Hopefully Renee would know for certain—surely she wouldn't let Bella live with a secret half-brother, knowing the possibility of a romantic entanglement existed, would she? Renee was an extraordinary secret keeper, keeping Bella from Charlie. But why, he asked himself for the thousandth time, were his parents falling all over each other to help the girl? He'd never seen his father take such an interest in another young person. A whispered conversation from long ago, something his grandmother said to his mother about a new baby. His parents never had another child after him. He sat up, wondering why the idea hadn't come to him earlier.

Could Renee have been a surrogate who changed her mind? Perhaps she'd been artificially inseminated with his father's…he didn't like to think of his father's seed in any capacity, but that was a far preferable presentation than his old man cheating on his wife. Or had Renee found herself pregnant by an unsuitable father and considered giving her out of wedlock child to the rich couple? Further on in this scenario, perhaps Renee changes her mind, decides to raise the baby on her own but doesn't wish to be shunned in her tiny hometown and so leaves the state. Plausible, but whether by turkey baster or clandestine tryst, if his father fathered Bella, he had no recourse. They could never be together.

If Charlie had been a violent drunk back when he and Renee were together, she might have run for her own safety. And had she and Charlie even been together as a couple? Maybe a torn condom, and not love, was responsible for the enigma down the hall. Renee had done a good job of hiding their whereabouts for over a decade. At what point did she decide to give Charlie a chance? Obviously after he was dry, but she could have allowed court supervised visitation beforehand. She didn't have to marry him.

Would there be any point in demanding the information from Renee? Storm her silly organic jam shop and invoke some karmic action if she didn't reveal the truth? Would she tell him if she hadn't come clean with her own daughter?

And if Charlie wasn't her father, would this lead to a string of DNA tests for every man Renee had been with? From what he remembered of his babysitter, she seemed playful and sweet. Still, she managed to get pregnant in some of the gaps of time when she wasn't with him. He remembered girls who worked as nannies when he was an undergrad. The joke going round was 'the only husbands who didn't fantasize about sleeping with the nanny, were the ones who were already sleeping with the nanny'. And his father was a man. A man who seemed to take an extraordinary interest in someone else's daughter.

Three AM. His logic had brought him round in a giant circle and he had nothing for his musings. Padding down to the kitchen he decided to look for the sandwiches his mother had stowed away. He would have liked something sweet but both the pumpkin pie his mother had brought and Bella's pie had been demolished. Crouching in front of the refrigerator he pulled out the left over container of sandwiches. On the shelf behind where the container had been, he saw a wrapped plate containing what looked like a crust. He took it to the table. It was a slice of Bella's apple pie, and in her handwriting a post-it note which read, 'Edward.'

And again, his mind went back to where it had started, thinking about Bella.

~T~

Monday was its' own torment. The day of his and Bella's Ying and Yang schedule, he was home while she was out then vice versa. It was bothering him more and more, these blocks of absence. If, after a long day, she could climb into bed next to him, even just to rest together, it would…he shook his head. What had become of him? The guy who would schedule sex and leave without another thought, make a date and not worry until his alarm signaled it was time to get dressed. Every thought seems to end with Bella, every idea wanted to be shared with her, every spare moment spent with her. What was this madness, this obsession? He forced himself to review his schedule, as if he hadn't already memorized exactly what would happen today. Research for possible JAMA article. Meet Peter's friend. Walk across the campus in time to see her change buildings. Clinicals at the hospital.

Madness indeed. He needed to get back into his system, his habits would set him right.

Readying his materials in his room he arranged them in his preferred formation, laptop center, the stack of medical journals his father dropped off to the left, and the pile of borrowed books he'd checked out of the library in anticipation of the holiday closure at the right, his desktop computer queued up to his subscription to The Journal of the American Medical Association. He was set for the next four hours. By long habit, he didn't just read his assigned textbooks. In elementary school he realized he read so much faster than anyone else in his classes, he was bored if he stuck only to the required work. He requested all cited works and then followed every worthwhile footnote to the source material and read that as well. He didn't always agree with the way the textbook authors chewed up and regurgitated the original works. He'd spotted an under-researched concept that he decided to investigate, and wanted to comply with the JAMA guidelines in case he chose to publish.

Growing up there was no suitable local school, and his mother wouldn't allow him to go to boarding school, as much as he'd begged. He then suggested home study, but his father insisted Edward attend a regular school, to work with children his own age, so he'd remain in touch with society.

A scolding phone call from his principal, the day that Edward informed his classmates that teaching them was a waste of taxpayer money, and a stern conversation with his father marked a turning point for him.

At ten, he complained that his enrichment class was far too easy, even though he was the youngest by two years. His father had said, "It's wonderful to be intelligent and to want to learn everything, and I don't want to stop you from utilizing your mind to its full capacity. But it's a lonely life to only surround yourself with books. Your true peers will be few and far between. You need to stay connected to other people. Have empathy for them, don't dismiss them because they don't have your capacity to learn. You're not the fastest runner in the world, that doesn't make you less of a person, does it?

He'd answered, "Of course not, but Mrs. Russo wouldn't let me answer the question when no one else in the class knew what she was talking about."

"Perhaps she was trying to encourage the other children to stretch their minds a little."

"There's an impossible quest. Reminds me of Don Quixote. I don't even know why we bother educating those dolts."

"Calling the other children dolts will not endear them you to. If you make an effort to befriend your classmates, I will arrange for you to spend part of the day in the library doing independent study."

"What would I have to study?"

"Whatever you like."

"Anything?"

"Anything that won't explode at school. Or cause a fire."

After he'd read everything in the stacks, the librarian brought in books for him from the high school library and her own collection. His parents made him participate in gym class, choir, art classes, and the writing lab. And of course he was allowed to help in the computer lab, to the joy of the instructor who spent the time day trading, allowing Edward free rein to research anything he was interested in and to assist the other kids. He did learn to connect with students in areas in which he was only average, which gave him some appreciation for the way people of normal intellect must feel going through life. If he didn't have his father coaching him, he'd probably be like Bella, angry almost all the time.

Trying to get himself back on track, he reread the author attributions guidelines on the Journal of the American Medical Association website. One phrase stood out:

" _other relationships or activities that readers could perceive to have influenced, or that give the appearance of potentially influencing" what is written in the submitted work (based on all relationships that were present during the 3 years prior to submission)._

Surely, that would be him in three years. Everything Bella did, or didn't do, seemed to have an effect on him. He needed answers, proof, before he could move forward. Pulling at his hair with both hands, like Newton's apple, the answer came to him.

~T~

Nursing a cup of tea, Edward looked around at the back of the Thai restaurant where Peter's friend Sunya insisted they meet. It seemed excessively dramatic. The dark paneling, the painted scroll work, tapestries, brass wind chimes, the servers in long stylized floral gowns with high collars. Did this fellow fancy himself some sort of secret agent? It felt faintly illicit, handing over baggies containing Charlie's single short hair, plucked unknowingly for this very purpose, and Bella's long hair, curled into a circle, given hopefully, fearfully. In the flat of his hand, this tiny bit of Bella was nearly as potent as she was. He now understood why people kept snippets of hair in lockets, and the curious custom of Victorian ladies, working strands of loved one's hair into broaches or tableaux, often in memory of the deceased. Watching Bella select a strand and pluck it forcefully enough to extract the bulb, then carefully coil it into the ringlet in his hand…it felt like part of a magical spell, not the collection of a specimen. Through the plastic he traced the loop in his palm, the label marking this as 'child' annoying him. Funny how something weighing less than a milligram could feel so heavy in his hand. Strong enough to hold one hundred times its' weight, and although tiny, containing the secret of her entire DNA code. It reminded him of Bella, deceptively strong. In a long hair an expert could decipher years of plenty and want, illness and health. Bella's entire story was coiled in his grasp and he never wanted to let go.

He'd offered to meet with Peter's friend to give Bella the cloak of anonymity in case…in case there was mockery or judgement in the retriever of the samples. He hadn't asked Peter exactly how well he knew this friend, or how they'd made their acquaintance. He wondered if he should have insisted on a more complete dossier, if he should even trust this person with something as precious as this tiny bit of Bella. Maybe he should cut it in half, Charlie's hair wasn't a tenth the length of Bella's and it would do the job. Why stop at half; he could keep two thirds, even three quarters of the strand and it would have no impact whatsoever on the veracity of the sample. In that case, why bother with three quarters when a piece as long as Charlie's, maybe three inches would do. Then he could keep the rest—

"You Edward?"

A black haired, dark eyed man about his own age dressed in jeans and a button down plaid shirt stood by his table.

Edward nodded.

"I'm Sunya, Peter's friend."

Sunya seemed legitimate, but Edward was sure he passed criminals every day on the street disguised as regular citizens. "What's with this meeting place? Do you do this so often that you have an established drop point?"

"It's my parent's restaurant." Sunya raised his eyebrows. "Is that a problem?"

"No, no sorry." He cleared his throat. "I've just never done this before."

"Run a DNA profile? Don't worry. I do, every day. Where are the samples?"

Handing over Charlie's baggie first, Edward reluctantly gave over the only part of Bella he'd ever touched for more than a moment.

The dark haired man looked over the short strand. "Doesn't look like your color."

"Why would it?"

"You know you're supposed to give one of your hairs if you're trying to establish or deny paternity, right? Peter told you anonymous tests don't hold up in court, so—"

"So? Why is that important?"

"Cause if your ex is saying you're her baby-daddy, the court can still order another test. Faking this one won't get you anywhere."

"I'm not, I—" Flustered at the double insinuation, that he had illegitimately impregnated someone _and_ was trying to trick his way out of being a father was unfathomable. "That's not the case. I'm doing it for a friend."

"Oh." The slow, drawn out way Sunya spoke indicated that he didn't believe a bit of what Edward was saying. "So, your friend is married?"

"Yes, I mean no, she's not…" Drawing up the composure he'd honed in countless chess matches he stated clearly. "Will these samples suffice to establish a relationship?"

"Yeah sure." He put his hand out. "The money? Cash?"

"One more thing." Edward pulled a third baggie out of his left pocket. "What will it cost to test this against the others?" He waited for some rude comment, but the other man just pursed his lips.

"Another $50."

Edward opened his wallet and took out the $100 Bella insisted on giving him and added $50.

"Okay. Give me two or three days." Sunya sealed the baggies inside a manila envelope then tapped the corner on the table by Edward's tea. "And try the Tom Yam Goong. Best in Seattle."

~T~

The question was, why didn't he think of using one of his hairs sooner? If Bella was a half sibling, they would share DNA, he wouldn't need a sample from his father. And why didn't Bella come up with the idea as well? Simple, because she didn't have the slightest suspicion that his father might be her father. And that was the information that broke his heart. He was restraining himself from pursuing her because of that small possibility. But her thoughts had never gone down that path. She didn't suspect they were at all related, yet she'd made it clear she wasn't interested. Despite the scintillating game of chess, the sweet gestures, like the saved slice of pie, all added up to nothing. She wanted to be his friend, while he wanted her to be much more. He suspected this was love. He'd never felt anything like it.

~T~

His familiarity with the campus and Bella's schedule allowed him to best guess where she was at any time of day. It wasn't stalking, just a quick check-in. While he had her cell number, he didn't want to start texting her. Sharing those few private words, delivered only to him and back to her would be too much. He'd worry if he implied too much or if she wouldn't put enough weight to his words. He'd overthink every response, what was written and what wasn't written. No, safer to see her at a distance for a moment than to engage in a volley of words.

Standing in the window lined corridor, he could get the quick glimpse of affirmation before he continued on his way. The little spark that went through him when she appeared was extraordinary. He stood taller, though she couldn't see him. He could feel his cheeks lift in a smile and he felt lighter knowing all was well with her. Was this what parent's felt when their children crawled through a playhouse tunnel? Logically knowing they were fine but still experiencing a happy physical response to their reappearance? And there she was. Even with her hair tucked into her red raincoat, even if there were a dozen girls in identical raincoats, he would know her. Another girl in a yellow coat walked next to her, and a step behind a tall boy. Mental check-in made, he continued on his way to the hospital.

~T~

"Dementia, Parkinson's and of course Alzheimer's." Edward waited for the customary acknowledgement of the rightness of his answer.

"Wrong." The resident looked past him, to the other two students with raised hands. "That's right but not the most right. Ms. Patel?"

The student with the Jasmine like hair answered, "Wobbly, wet and wacky, together these three are also symptoms of Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus."

"Exactly. NPH is undiagnosed because it shares…"

Edward was shocked into silence. He hadn't answered a question wrong in years, and that had been math when he failed to copy a negative sign from the example on the board, he'd been in such a rush since he was calculating the equation in his head, faster than he could write the answer that he'd missed that tiny little notation that changed everything. After mentally flagellating himself, vowing to never make another public mistake, he'd become meticulous in his reading and study habits, flawless, perfect. How could he have forgotten this bit of information? He could barely pay attention to what the resident was saying, they must have been dismissed since the group of students were moving around him, their white coats fluttering past but he was frozen in place. He'd never experienced such a debilitating moment, he thought, except for the time he'd gone into anaphylactic shock when Bella had rescued him—Bella! She was the reason.

What else had he missed as his brain became focused on everything Bella? What bits of knowledge had been stolen from him when he heard the tinkle of her laugh? What mote of information was lost by his eye searching for the swing of her hair as she climbed the stairs, his brain expending effort to calculate the exact moment that her hair would switch direction and turn back like a pendulum? He could never know what he didn't know. There was no way to backtrack, to fill in the holes, gaps he couldn't identify until he tripped into them or over them, or was consumed by one.

He didn't mind working hard, dedicating himself to a cause, but there was no way he could win here. He was losing his primary focus in service to a woman who wasn't interested in being more than his friend. She was too distracting. Eventually she would find someone with whom she'd want to have a physical relationship. What depths of despair would he experience if she and a date came home and…

It was simple. He loved her, but she didn't love him back. She needed space to find her own happiness, and he needed space so he wouldn't have to witness his heart being pulverized when she finally found the lucky bastard that she could love. He needed her to go.

The sting of blundering in front of his peers had put it all in focus. He'd get his parents to arrange for some other housing on campus for her. He didn't want to disrupt her studies, and getting it over as soon as possible made the most sense. When she came back from her winter break she could move directly into other housing, leaving him and his bleeding, lonely heart to suffer in silence.

~T~

He didn't want the entire student body to know his business, so he waited until he was back in the townhouse, in his room, to make the call.

"There's a problem Mom." Edward didn't believe in avoiding issues. "Bella needs to move into campus housing. She can't live with me anymore."

"What are you talking about? You were getting on famously. We were just there. Did you have a fight?"

"There was no fight, it's just not working out."

"Sweetheart, I'm sure this can be fixed. You're both stressed, there's bound to be a squabble or two—"

"She's distracting me, plain and simple. She's intolerable." Edward paced, pulling his hair with one hand while holding the phone to his ear, listening in disbelief as his mother disagreed with him.

"Edward." His mother's voice had that sudden stern quality he'd learned to dislike. It generally signaled that he was not going to get his way. "Bella is not moving out. I promised Renee—"

"Promised Renee? What about me? I need to study, not worry about Bella."

"Edward, your behavior is ridiculous. Really, how much trouble can one person be?"

"Mom. MOM, I can't do this anymore. She's just…too much. Her hair, her voice, I can't concentrate. She has to leave. I need to focus—"

Over the whine of his mother chastising him he heard the front door slam. It could only be Bella, but was she arriving or leaving? She certainly wasn't home when he got there. If Bella had just come in, she wouldn't have heard what he'd said. If she just left, she could have heard it all. He didn't want to hurt her, he just couldn't be near her. Maybe it was better this way, and she'd leave on her own. He'd had girlfriends before, he'd wanted women, but what he felt for Bella was different. She permeated all his parts, every cell swam in her scent. Every little thing reminded him of her, made him think of how she'd like a certain place, enjoy a new food, nod her head to a new song, laugh at jokes he knew she'd get. He could handle her if he could create some distance. Seeing her across the commons, or meeting her for coffee, that would be fine. But seeing her in his kitchen, wearing the organic cotton flannel sleepshirt that reached her knees and was by no standard sexy, made him think of the fabric against her thighs, of lifting her onto the breakfast bar and—this could not stand.

"She's too much for me Mom."

"Edward, you need to come home."

"That's a three hour drive, I have clinic in the morning."

"You need to hear this."

~T~

The entire drive home he tried to craft a convincing speech, some way to get his parents to insist that Bella move out. He didn't want to lie about her and make up some story of wild parties or drugs or an obnoxious boyfriend, but he couldn't tell the truth. The truth that he wanted her like he'd never wanted another person. Every moment in her presence, even if she was berating him, made him want more. Waiting for her to shower, listening to the water run, imagining her drying her body then dressing. He was paralyzed with desire, until he couldn't bear it and took his own shower, hoping the pounding water would shield his activities. Arguing with her turned him on. Thinking about playing chess with her still got him hard. The day he found a pair of her underpants left behind in the dryer, now lovingly hidden in his nightstand, was still a highlight of the month. He considered kissing them then putting them into her drawer and imagining her wearing them, his kisses touching her most private parts. He recognized the absurdity, but couldn't help himself. In short, she was driving him mad.

He was afraid, afraid that his parents were going to reveal something he couldn't unknow, that he and Bella were related. Then he'd have to fall on his sword and reveal his inappropriate thoughts to his parents. Then they'd move her out, but the shame would linger forever more. He queued up a Ted Talk he wanted to listen to, hoping it would distract his mind from the current mess. Finally pulling up to his parent's house. Instead of the usual feeling of welcome and comfort, he felt only dread. He could see his mother looking out the front window, in a second she'd be out the door. He needed to man up and face whatever she had to tell him.

Silently his mother hugged him, then turned. He followed her to the kitchen table. A book with his infant face on the cover laid on the table, he presumed the finished product of her summer project.

"I can't take her living with me anymore." He sat, rubbing his finger on the glossy cover. Couldn't she just take him at his word? When he first told her he expected her to jump to his defense, to run off with a broom and chase Bella out of his place. Instead she sat, looking at him sadly.

Talking in a breathy whisper she pushed the book towards him. "Take a look."

Turning the pages, his saw his very pregnant mother, his mother breastfeeding him as an infant, holding him on her lap as he held up a flash card. From an early age, a young Renee was in the background, holding him, sitting with his mother at the park while he played. Renee kicking a soccer ball with him, his father showing him how to use a plastic bat, Renee sitting with him at the chess board, the two of them making cookies, blowing out candles on his birthday cake.

"So?"

"Look again."

Flipping through the pages, it came to him. "You're missing. There's no pictures of you from when I was five until I was almost six." He felt strange. Why hadn't he noticed this before, then he recalled. "You had to leave to take care of a friend who lived in Maine. That's when Renee decided to come live with us."

"That's not what happened." She looked pale as she sat quietly, looking at her folded hands. She was still for so long he considered calling his father but suddenly she started talking. He leaned in so he could hear her words.

"You don't understand. Renee saved us, our whole family. We can never repay her for that." She sighed, sounding weary. "We never told you I was pregnant. You were just so relentless, even as a four year old. I was at the point where wearing your father's sweatshirts wouldn't hide my bump, three months to go, and we were going to tell you the day I miscarried. I was in the hospital for a few days since I'd lost so much blood. I thought I could deal with it. But I couldn't."

"I remember you going to the hospital. Renee came to stay, but you told me you'd had your gallbladder removed."

"You have to understand, you could comprehend beyond your years, but you were emotionally still a child. You were never happy with a simple answer, one question begot ten more. Trying to explain a miscarriage to a child who'd want every detail but didn't understand the emotional toll of losing a child? Your father and I decided to make up the story about the gallbladder surgery, so you'd understand not to jump on me, so I could heal."

He'd learned something from Bella, the art of listening. He took his mother's hand, and held it, knowing there was more to the story.

"I felt like I was a terrible mother. Losing the baby, your sister. Everything you did made me wonder why you were here and she wasn't. What had I done wrong? I wanted to stop the pain. I thought about ending my life, but mostly I was afraid…afraid that I was going to hurt you."

Edward stared at his mother. In his memory she'd only ever been the kindest soul, doing everything in her power to pamper him. As he was learning, she'd perhaps done too much for him, creating the self-centered creature Bella had pointed him out to be.

"Your father was the chief resident, working all the time. He didn't know there was anything wrong, he'd come home to a perfect house. He didn't know I was up all night cleaning, taking the towels out of the closet and rewashing and refolding them because they weren't clean enough. Baking my own bread, repainting rooms, scrubbing the floors every night. Somehow I thought if I could be absolutely perfect-perfect, my baby would magically return to me. Sometimes I'd sing to her and I thought I could hear her crying somewhere in the house, and I'd rip through closets, the attic, the basement, looking for her. Then I decided I could never be perfect enough, and what business did I have being anyone's mother at all? I decided we would both be better if I was gone. I had fantasies about jumping off a bridge with you strapped to my back, of driving my car into a lake."

"You had Postpartum Psychosis." He knew all the symptoms from his clinicals in psychiatrics; manic behavior, hallucinations, and suicidal thoughts. He looked at the cover of the photobook, the image of his magical childhood shattered. "Why didn't Dad—"

"Don't blame your father. He was working 90 hours a week. The few hours he was awake with us, I was wife of the year and Mary Poppins put together. The week I decided to end things I actually cooked and froze meals for your father. He left for the hospital and I added some sleeping pills to your oatmeal. I took mine and I told you to come take a nap with me."

He couldn't help the chill at the calm way his mother recited her plan to kill the two of them. They were both here to tell the tale, but still he shuddered.

"I lay down on my bed and called for you, but you phoned Renee. You asked her to come make you pancakes because the oatmeal I made was terrible. She found me, called the ambulance, made you throw up."

He had a sudden sharp memory of Renee holding him over the sink, pushing her fingers down his throat until he vomited. "She said we had food poisoning and since you ate so much you had to go to the hospital."

"I went away to a psychiatric hospital. It was supposed to be a month, but it ended up being almost four. Then I was afraid of relapsing." Tears wet her face as she gripped his hand in both of hers. "I was afraid of hurting you, my beautiful boy. The Maine part was true. I went to stay with a friend from college, but she was taking care of me. Renee stayed with you while Dad was working, she was there for you when I couldn't be."

She stroked his arm, catching her breath. "She quit school to stay with you. I can never pay her back."

"What about day-care? Why did she have to drop out of school?"

She laughed. "You couldn't be put in daycare. You were reading the newspaper while the other children were learning animal noises. You demanded answers from the teachers constantly. After three days you were asked to leave. This is a small town Edward, there was no place for a child with your intellectual capabilities."

Selfishly, he recalled Renee staying with him all day, every day, until he started kindergarten, but he never questioned why she no longer went to school. Was he less self-absorbed as an adult? He was afraid to ask the question and hurt his mother after all she'd shared, but he needed to know. "Was there ever anything between Dad and Renee?"

"Your father was dealing with his grief over the lost baby, his job, visiting his wife in a mental institution, and a demanding, precocious five year old. The old biddies in this town made Renee feel like she was doing something wrong, moving in to take care of you. She helped us Edward, in every way she knew how."

"Mom, you didn't answer the question."

"I abandoned you and your father after trying to kill myself and you. If your father…" She dropped his hand, rubbing her temples. "If your father and Renee found some comfort in each other, I don't know, but I wouldn't blame either one. What I do know, is they were both here for you when I couldn't be, until I was well. I let so many people down, but when I was ready your father welcomed me back without hesitation." She stopped, touching his face and looking into his eyes. "Whatever Renee needs, I have to give to her. She needs a safe place for her daughter to live, and that's with you."

"I don't understand why you never told me."

"You were a child!"

"But I mean now, in the last few years, why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm your parent, but I'm also a person. I'm obligated to take care of you, but that doesn't mean I owe you every intimate detail of my life. This was so hard…"

She began sobbing, her face in her hands. Edward moved to her side, holding her against him, stroking the back of her head. He was still processing this new aspect of his mother. It explained some of her smothering behavior, and her extraordinary devotion to him. She was trying to make amends without him ever knowing why. He also knew, Bella would not be moving out.

.

.

.

.

* * *

.

* * *

 **TRIGGER WARNING SYNOPSIS** : Esme suffered a late term miscarriage, which was kept secret from Edward. She developed Postpartum Psychosis, a rare condition sometimes mistaken for postpartum depression, but far more debilitating, often leading to thoughts of suicide and/or harming your baby. She attempts suicide but Renee finds her unconscious and gets help. Renee quits school and moves in, in order to step in when Esme leaves for treatment. Esme leaves the psychiatric treatment center then goes to live with her college friend across the country, afraid that she might relapse and try to harm Edward. She returns after eighteen months. Now she feels she owes Renee, and insists that Bella stay with Edward in the townhouse.

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to both **Cousin Beta** _and_ **Nurse Beta** for their help with this chapter.

Happy Thanksgiving, even if you don't officially celebrate I hope you have something to be thankful for in your lives. Sorry if this chapter was too heavy, but this was always the 'why' behind Esme's super-mom behavior.


	11. Bonus Chapter

**_Bonus Chapter, Bella POV, flashback_**

.

It was stupid. As a smart girl, she knew it was stupid, but still she walked around the tiny town of Forks, looking for him. The way Renee talked about Edward, she half expected a monument in the town square. Except there was no town square. A few dreary shops putting up banners for 'Small Business Saturday', the small library, only open four days a week, a hardware store, a camping equipment place. At least there was a decent coffee shop. She sipped from the paper cup as she searched fruitlessly for the redheaded genius in whose shadow she'd spent her whole life.

When she discovered that Edward was indeed real, matching his achievements became her goal. Chess champion? Check. Win the State Science Fair? Check. Graduate early? Double check. He became the fox to her hound, the rabbit to her greyhound, him ever a pace ahead, she, always on his tail. There was resentment a plenty when she was younger, but over the last few years something else had developed.

When your mother packs you up and drags you from home to home, there isn't time for goodbyes. Whatever fledgling friendships she started were destroyed whenever Renee decided that this 'one' was not really 'the one' she thought him to be and they were off. Bella suffered through endless placement tests since Renee always bugged out in such a hurry there was no time to take her daughter's school records with her. There would be a week or more of phone calls and faxes, during which time Bella sat in classrooms with her age peers. The torture of sitting in a classroom being taught addition made her long for her last school where she had been working on calculus with the principal, a Harvard educated mathematician. Renee, or her current boyfriend, never had enough money to send Bella to a private school, so she learned how to zone out in the classroom, reading on her own, until her placement results came in and she could sit in the library all day since none of her schools could accommodate her. She begged Renee to just let her stay at home instead of wasting time at an institution where no one was qualified to teach her, but Renee cited the law, and the fact that she was working and couldn't leave a nine year old home alone. When the revelation came, that Edward was real, Bella began to imagine that he, of all the people in the world, would understand her. He'd understand her loneliness, he could commiserate with having no friends, understand what it was like to have a mind that worked so much faster than anyone else, that she became impatient waiting for them to catch up. She began to plan to someday meet him, to thank him for being the guiding light in her life.

Now she was close. When Renee started making noise about moving, which must have been Charlie's influence, because in the past Renee just started packing, when the town of Forks came up in conversation, it seemed too good to be true. Of course Edward was away at medical school, but surely he'd come home to visit the beautiful Esme and brilliant Carlisle, also major characters in her childhood narrative. When Renee's husband got the sheriff position in Forks, Bella didn't want to appear to concede too easily. She was taking college courses, so at last she wasn't bored at school. She'd spend the last few years building up a business for Renee, to give her some sort of independence when she left for university. She wasn't sure she had the energy to start it all over again, but Charlie had been surprisingly helpful, finding a storefront, negotiating a lease and filing all the permits, things Bella had done (with her mother as her mouthpiece, town clerks still didn't listen to eleven year olds no matter how precocious). All that was left for her was finally meeting Edward. Walking into her mother's store, she saw her mother laughing with a woman. She looked familiar, could it be?

"Baby," her mother yelled. "Get over here and meet Esme."

The beautiful woman gasped, "Oh Rennie, she's all grown up!" She spread her arms, "How 'bout a hug?" Folded into the arms of Edward's mother, Bella felt one step closer to home. "I have a meeting tonight, but you'll have to come to dinner tomorrow night, no question about it."

Dinner at the Cullen's? Dare she ask if Edward would be there? Renee, while she had many faults was extremely useful in situations like this, because she'd say whatever was on her mind.

"Will Edward be there?"

"Yes, he's home for summer break. He only gets two weeks so he's been a bit of a slug."

"We don't want to put you out."

What was her mother saying? At last she was going to get a chance to meet Edward and now her mother decided to be polite?

"Nonsense, it'll be like old times. In fact, come over early and you can show me that new ratatouille recipe. My boys eat way too much meat."

And it was set. Esme left with maple syrup, three kinds of jams, beeswax candles, and a bottle of essential oils.

It wasn't too much, she hoped, that when they finally met, Edward would recognize something in her, that he could be her true friend, equally ambitious and driven. She imagined how casually she'd try to play it. 'I've heard so much about you. Tell me, would you be interested in a joint research project?' and Edward, might he be a hugger like his mother? Or would he reach out and shake her hands with both of his, saying, 'Bella, I've been looking forward to meeting you. At last, my intellectual equal. Let's discuss…'

Now she'd lost her mind. All the behaviors she'd mocked in high school girls were coming back to bite her in the ass. Love at first sight was a myth anyway. She didn't want him to want her body, she wanted him to want her mind, at least half as much as she craved connecting to his mind. She'd been waiting to meet him the last seven years of her life, and now suddenly they'd meet tonight. It was almost too much to hope for, that at last she'd meet her true companion. She had dreams of them being like Marie and Pierre Curie, discovering elements together, or Mary and Louis Leakey, searching the world for new fossils. She and Edward, their combined brain power could fuel new medical discoveries and treatments.

"Baby, I left one box in the truck, would you go get it?"

Her mother had parked down the street, hoping that by leaving a space open in front of her shop they'd attract more customers. It had only attracted the shop owner next door, who parked her van directly in front of their store. It felt good to stretch her legs, even though in her shorts it was chilly compared to Arizona. On the way back from the truck she heard honking and squealing brakes, but luckily no crash, just two drivers shaking fists at each other.

Back in the store she started unpacking the box. She heard her mother squeal in happiness, "Ewok!"

Ewok was the nickname her mother had called Edward. Could he be here already? Was he so anxious to meet her as well that he couldn't wait for dinner that night either? She straightened her shirt and pushed her hair behind her ears.

He was staring at her. She put out her hand but he didn't reach for it. His eyes did that full body assessment she loathed, scanning her up and down. He was far from the first male to do so; she wasn't stupid, she knew she was physically attractive, but that's not what she cared about. Physical beauty faded, she wanted a man who loved her mind. She put her hand back at her side. Just to be sure, in case there was another Edward in Forks that her mother failed to mention, she asked, "He's the one in medical school? Or was that someone else?"

When her mother answered affirmatively, she realized something she hadn't expected. He had no idea who she was.

Her entire life she'd been schooled in Edward anecdotes. He'd inspired her, driven her, but he'd never even heard of her.

Stunned at the disappointment, she busied herself putting jars on the shelves. He brought over the rest of the carton. Sure, she'd seen this behavior before. He was hitting on her for her physical attributes. She was angry, angry at her mother for not telling her, angry at Edward's mother for not mentioning her to his son, but most of all she was angry with herself. Why had she built up her hopes again? Since they'd left Florida, she hadn't been anywhere long enough to find a friend. She thought that at least, Edward would be her friend, would have known about her struggles, and at least have some respect for her. She was a smart girl, and what she'd seen of relationships was that people were only nice to you while they had something to gain. Why had she fancied there could be something different when she'd seen the proof in her mother's many relationships and breakups? She was practicing bad science, ignoring the evidence for what she hoped the answer would be. That was that, she'd never make that mistake again. She grabbed the duster and started cleaning the already clean jars. Her mother chased her out of the store, Edward behind her. He tried to catch up, offered to show her around town. She knew what older guys wanted out of younger girls. Since he knew nothing else about her that had to be all he was interested in. No thank you, Mr. Dream Crusher.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** Unbeta'd, just a little peek into Bella. Back to Edward's POV next chapter


	12. Chapter 12

**Please Read Author's Note Below**

 **A bonus chapter was posted yesterday, this is the regular chapter**

* * *

Chapter 11

His first ever text message to Bella was neither clever nor intimate.

 **Staying over at my parents' house tonight. Back tomorrow. Edward**

Her answer, equally banal.

 **Ok. See you then. B**

No subtext, no witty double entendre. Just the facts. Maybe this was how he'd have to communicate with her, however long this purgatory of living with her but not having her was going to last.

His father was working the overnight shift at the hospital, so he'd be on the road before his father came home. His mother had ordered baked ziti from his favorite restaurant before she went to sleep early, the unburdening of her years of deception had drained her. So he was fed, comfortable in his bed, exhausted, but still couldn't sleep. Maybe he should get up and go to the ER and ask his father if anything untoward had gone on between him and Renee? At the best of times the ER wasn't very private. If it was a busy night, patients would line the halls, as well as the constant dance of nurses, orderlies, and technicians. Did he really want to air his family's secrets where his father's colleagues would have a front row seat?

What would he have done, if his wife had dropped out of his life for an undetermined time? How many months would it be before he started to consider his options, until he began to believe that this might be his new reality? Could he blame his father for possibly seeking comfort with a beautiful young woman who dropped everything in her world to come take care of his child? Could it have been just one night, or a few times while he innocently slept down the hall? People did crazy things in grief. And a lost baby, a sister he never knew about, he couldn't imagine the pain. Maybe their affair ended when they realized that his mother was coming back? Maybe, it had never started at all. Maybe he was misjudging his father entirely, and his dad had stayed true to his suffering wife for the long months until she felt well enough to return to them. He wished he had the same level of peace with the idea that his mother had.

Banging his head against the pillow, he reconsidered driving to the ER. He didn't want his father to walk in unaware of a post-melt down spouse, nor for his mother to have to go through the torture of explaining that she'd told her son of her breakdown. He needed to confront his father face to face, so he could see in his eyes if he was telling the truth. If he could only frame the question so it didn't sound like he was accusing his father of sleeping with Renee, but at the same time, shake that information from him. In a few days he'd have the DNA results, which would tell him if Bella was related or not, but that wasn't proof that his father and Bella's mother never crossed that line. All the adults in his life seemed incredibly good at hiding things from him. It made him wonder what was real, and what was carefully crafted artifice?

Should it matter so much to him, as long as he and Bella didn't share DNA? Could he ignore the possibility? What his mother said was true; she was a person as well as a parent, and she didn't owe him every detail of her life. The same should be said for Renee and his father. Some childish part of him wanted to believe that his parents were each other's one and only love. If his father had transgressed, and his mother had forgiven him, was it his business at all?

Reaching over to click off the light on his nightstand, the same sailboat lamp Renee used to illuminate the story books she'd read to him. It all made sense now. He'd grown so attached to Renee because he was missing his mother. In the year and a half that his mother was gone, Renee became her replacement, she became the most important person in his 'circle of security'. His father had been chief resident, which he now knew was incredibly demanding. It would have been career ending if his father took leave for an unknown amount of time to take care of his child. Renee became his de facto parent.

He remembered a conversation over his first chess board. "If mom doesn't come back, will you be my new mother?"

"Your mother is coming back Edward. It just takes a long time to get well sometimes."

"Maybe I could help her. Grandpa calls me 'the little doctor.' I could assist my mother, then her friend would get better faster and Mom could come home sooner."

"Do you want me to leave so badly?"

"No, Princess Leia. I want you both here."

"Don't worry my little Ewok, she'll come back to you."

His mother was right. Renee had saved them. She never let on that there was a possibility that his mother might not come back. Her positive attitude, which he'd mocked, held his relationship with his parents together. She did it so well it was invisible to him at the time. He needed to reassess all the things he believed in, his mother's perfection, the screwball attitude of Renee, even his admiration for his father. He'd always believed it was his mother that held their family together, not realizing the burden his father carried. All those years he'd dismissed him as being less caring. How did he make it up to him, to them? How much should he share with Bella? He'd agreed with her dismissive attitude towards her mother, but Renee had sacrificed to rescue his family. He needed to apologize to Renee, but would that open old wounds that she'd rather not be revealed? Charlie clearly knew part of the story, but he was sure Bella did not. If he apologized to Bella, wouldn't that look like he was just trying to ingratiate himself to her? Wouldn't she assume that he was doing it for his own gain?

~T~

Bleating and vibrating, his cell phone alarm woke him at 5:30 a.m. He was bone weary, but if he didn't get on the road soon he'd be late for his required clinic hours. It wasn't like the clinic's patients had anything more dire than minor colds and workmen's comp cases since anything serious was bucked up to the ER, but being late for duty was not tolerated. He'd half decided to ambush his father in the parking lot of the hospital, but he needed to be on the road by six. So, should he dash over and ask his father this potentially relationship changing question then run off, or wait until another time when he could ask and respond like a mature adult? Sighing he pulled on his clothes and made his bed so his mother wouldn't have to do it. He needed to start acting like an adult in his relationship with his parents. This discussion had been tabled for eighteen years, it could wait a few more days or weeks. He decided on the coward's way out and texted his father: **Mom told me about Maine.**

Sleet had made the roads especially slick and he'd passed a few minor fender benders on the way back to campus, putting him even further behind the clock. He would have minutes to get changed into his clothes and get his ass to the clinic. At least there was an open parking spot near the townhouse. Pulling in to park, he spotted Bella's familiar red raincoat in the distance, hood pulled up against the miserable weather. He barely had time to change, but if he was quick he could get turned around and at least give her a lift closer to her classes. The campus shuttles were notorious for running late in foul weather.

Hooking his wet jacket on the closet door knob and shaking the rain out of his hair, Edward slipped off his shoes and charged towards the stairs. As he passed the kitchen doorway, he noticed something odd on the table, like a thin dark scarf. He didn't have time to look and continued on his way, pulling off his shirt and pants, pulling on the standard dark polo shirt and khakis, grabbing a clean white lab coat from the closet. He should have eaten on the way, but he couldn't spare the time. Trampling back down the stairs he sidetracked to the kitchen to grab a protein bar. The thing on the table caught his eye again. Then he recognized the brown color, the silky texture, braided and coiled like a cobra. Bella's hair.

He stepped back, feeling a physical blow to his chest. Rubbing his eyes he blinked, hoping he was mistaken. He turned on the overhead light, and approached it slowly. Bound on both ends by dark elastics, he both wanted and didn't want to touch it. Her hair always seemed to have its own personality while it was still attached to Bella's head. Now it was lifeless. He touched it, reaching with one finger to stroke its length, as he'd wanted to countless times. Now that it was here in front of him, he'd lost all desire to handle it. Looking around, fighting the tears welling in his eyes, he hoped for a note, some kind of explanation. But did he need a note? She'd heard him ranting to his mother and had taken this extreme measure, thinking it would change his mind about her. Like a salamander dropping its tail to escape, she'd cut off the thing that had first attracted him to her. She was telling him to fuck off, back away. At some time in the past, that might have been true, but now, he didn't care what her hair looked like. He wanted her.

Feeling the need to cover it, as if it were a severed limb, he dug out a kitchen towel placing it reverently over the braided coil. He fought the urge to race after her, to show up in her classroom and bellow his pain, but what was the point? This was more than a gesture, it was a gauntlet thrown down. He could almost hear her saying, _'take that!'_

He'd face her at home, with dignity and privacy. He was ashamed that he made her feel as if this were her only option.

No longer caring that he'd be late, he drove through the slushy streets and parked in the designated zone at the hospital. His resident was waiting by the nursing station, no doubt ready to chew him out for his tardiness. What a fantastic start to the day.

~T~

Edward was trying to do a strep throat swab on a four year old maniac who had a vise for a jaw. The mother was no help, just tittering into her hands about how she was afraid to get the flu shot, that it might cause autism and big pharma was trying to hide the truth.

Peter stopped by the examining table, phone in hand. "I'm ordering Thai for lunch. You want?"

The last thing Edward wanted to think about was food, but knew when everyone was eating he'd be hungry. "Just order me whatever you're getting, as long as it's not too spicy."

He'd shared enough meals with Peter to know they ate pretty much the same things. He suspected he'd be eating far more take out now. No tasty little surprises with heating instructions taped to the foil, no slices of pie.

"Hey, can you make a sound like Tarzan?"

The kid began to scream and Edward put the swab in his open mouth, fishing around the boy's swollen tonsils for a good sample. Tarzan started gagging and pawing at Edward's hand, but he was too quick, lifting the swab over his head. The mother was already holding the boy's head against her chest, stroking his hair. Edward had a momentary flashback, sick in bed, a soft hand soothing his forehead. Was it Renee or his mother? Had he merged the memories? He could be angry about the whole thing, the deception, but he had always felt loved. The adults in his life didn't always tell him the whole truth, but he'd been loved and cared for as a child. Wasn't that the important thing?

He'd just finished testing Mr. Hernandez's blood sugar. The man had been diagnosed as diabetic years ago, but by the 460 blood sugar reading, it was clear that he wasn't taking his medication, which was why he was weak and urinating so frequently. His daughter was scolding him, in Spanish, and was already saying everything Edward would have said, so he just stood back.

"You own me six bucks." Peter held up a white plastic bag as he walked past. "I'll put it in the back."

The staff lounge had an ancient microwave on top of the waist high refrigerator, stainless steel hand sink, coffee maker, and two small orange tables. The five molded plastic chairs were designed to keep people from lingering. The original lounge had been commandeered for more exam space during a flu outbreak and had never been reclaimed. Still, it was a place to eat. He washed his hand thoroughly; the flu and a stomach bug seemed to be running rampant. Drying his hands he could see a white paper poking out of the bag. Most likely a menu, as if they didn't already have dozens of menus from every restaurant that would deliver to the clinic. His father had texted him back, requesting a call that evening. How the hell would that conversation go? _Hey Dad, any chance you and the babysitter got it on? Don't worry, Mom's okay with it if you did, but I'm in love with my kid sister._ No, he'd be avoiding that topic as long as possible _._

He sat, pulling out the container with his lunch, a handful of napkins, white plastic forks and the paper he'd spotted, which was not a menu but an envelope with his name on it. Was Peter making out bills now? He started slurping the noodles; he only had a few minutes.

Peter zipped in, going straight for the coffee maker. "Hey, Sunya said he left something for you."

Edward almost choked. The DNA results delivered in a bag like food? For anyone to find? What if someone else had opened it? It was Bella's to see for the first time. But there was only one envelope. Surely Sunya didn't put all the results together? On that TV show that survived on doing paternity reveals, the results were always in separate envelopes.

"That's it, only one envelope?"

"Yeah, they had a slow day so he was able to get the samples in right away." Peter tipped some milk into his coffee. "He said to call if you had any questions interpreting."

The envelope was blank except for his handwritten name. What did he expect, a guy doing DNA tests on the side wasn't going to make it too obvious. He tested the flap, but it was well sealed. He could review the contents, find another envelope. Bella would never know. But he'd know. He should at least explain his actions to her, and maybe they could start again with the truth. She deserved to know how his family was entangled with hers. The urge to open the envelope was unbearable. Getting them out of his hands would be easier all around. He sent Bella the second text he'd ever sent her.

 **I have the test results- E**

He checked the time, she was between classes. She must have had her phone in hand because there was an immediate response:

 **I'll pick them up. You're at the clinic?-B**

Of course she knew his schedule, just like he knew hers.

 **Yes**

He couldn't help but wonder how she looked today. He was a little anxious about seeing her in person. Probably best that it would be in a public venue. It would be easier to keep any commentary or groveling in check. He wanted to know if she cut it off herself or did she have help? How did she feel about-

"Edward, getting slammed here." The resident didn't wait for an answer.

Folding the envelope he stuck it into his coat pocket and followed.

~T~

His neck hurt and his eyes were dry. He put his mouth to his shoulder in an attempt to hide his yawn. The clinic waiting room filled faster than they could work. A woman with a sick baby over her shoulder and two older children leaning on her from either side had been here for a few hours. A man in a neck brace tipped back in his chair against the wall, sleeping despite the noise. Two teens chatted in the corner, probably waiting for STD results. He couldn't count the number of coughers and snifflers filling the seats.

Peter slapped a clipboard next to him. "Wake up Buttercup. Three hours to go. Another late night with 'not your girlfriend'?"

Edward rolled his eyes. He wished he lived the life Peter envisioned.

His phone gave a weird chirp, as did Peter's. By the time he'd taken it out to read, an announcement alert tone came from the public address system.

 **Security Alert.**

 **May I have your attention please, Code Orange is now in effect. ¿Puedo tener su atención por favor , Código de Orange está ahora en efecto. May I have you attention please, Code Orange is now in effect. ¿Puedo tener su atención por favor , Código de Orange está ahora en efecto.**

He locked eyes with Peter. Code Orange meant some kind of an external threat has been identified and all exterior doors have been locked **.** Everyone needed to remain inside the building **.** They both remembered their training, priority being keeping the non-staff people inside the clinic calm until the all clear. The doctor in charge came out from wherever he'd been hiding and spoke to the people, in English then Spanish.

"Stay calm. Everyone has to stay inside until we get the all clear. Happens all the time, it should just be a few minutes."

He was lying. Edward hadn't heard of an active containment situation at the hospital since he'd been an undergrad. He wondered what the doctor wasn't saying. A few of the staff followed the MD as he walked into the back. The charge nurse Liz didn't say anything, she just raised an eyebrow.

The doctor was calm. "Keep it quiet, a Code Orange was called into the hospital. If you see anything unusual, abandoned bags, people acting twitchy—"

Liz hissed. "It's the clinic, half the people here are acting twitchy!"

"Okay, weirder than usual. Please notify the desk right here."

With quiet nods and worried faces, everyone sat in silence for a moment then returned to their assigned places. No one would say the word 'bomb', but why else were they being told to look for abandoned bags and nervous people? At least no one else would be coming in and they could finally make some headway—Bella. Bella would be coming.

He grabbed his phone, hoping that for once she'd listen to him.

 **Don't come to the hospital-E**

He almost jumped when the phone vibrated a moment later.

 **Too Late-B**

Where the hell was she? What if this wasn't a prank, if there was an actual bomb set somewhere in the hospital, exactly where he told her to go? He was so weak, he couldn't contain himself long enough to tell her at night when they'd both be home. If something happened to her, if something terrible went on because he'd told her to come, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. And Renee! All she'd done for his family…if something happened to her only child…

He started running routes through his head. He'd wandered the tunnels, back hallways and forgotten stairwells of this place for years. If he knew where she was, he could get to her. He'd just bring her...where? He didn't know if the danger was real. He might think he was leading her to safety but instead be leading her to her death. Whatever the case, he had to try.

"Edward, you—"

"Quiet Pete, I can't find Bella."

"Edward—"

"Goddamn it…I'm trying to reach her." Edward tapped hard on his phone.

 **WHERE ARE YOU?**

"I'm here."

Was he imagining her voice? He spun around and she was standing, a flat expression on her face.

He never been so happy to see anyone before in his life. He couldn't help himself, and pulled her in for a hug. "You're all right."

"Let me go." She sounded calm but fierce. He released her. Stepping back he noticed the student standing directly behind her. The creepy Blonde guy that she didn't like. James.

"James knows, Edward."

"Knows what?"

"That we're cousins. He knows things."

She was staring at him, her expression stony. He didn't know what she was talking about, they weren't cousins, but her demeanor begged him to play along.

"Of course we are."

"He knows."

She was blinking. Rapidly. He'd studied Bella, her mannerisms, the way she focused on a chess piece, how her brows would arch when she questioned something, talked to her mother on the phone, but this flapping of her lashes was out of character. There was a pattern, three quick, three slightly slower—she was blinking SOS!

He blinked three times and she stopped. She knew he knew something was wrong, and by the way James' pupils were dilated, and the way he was sweating, James was the cause. He had his messenger bad over his shoulder, could he be the one with the bomb? Bella wanted him to do something, but what?

"You have something on your face." Her voice was off by a tone as she moved her hand towards his face, then, as her arm was fully extended, she clasped her other hand and shot back, elbowing James in the solar plexus. As the blonde man pitched forward, Edward pushed his head down, grabbing the messenger bag and pulling the strap against his neck.

The man on the ground wasn't giving up so easily, his arms were flailing, trying to get a grip on Edward while gasping for breath. High on something, the man was disproportionally strong. Edward managed to get a knee on his back but James got his legs under himself and bucked Edward off to the side. Edward still had a grip on the messenger bag as James lunged for it, knocking Edward onto his back. He could see Bella grabbing the clipboard out of Peter's hands and swing it sideways, hitting James at the base of his skull. James vomited as he went down, unconscious, across Edward's chest.  
.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N** : **Good News** : Early Update, **Bad News** : I will not have internet access for the next 12 days, so no update unless I carrier pigeon something to **Cousin Beta** to post. Thanks again to **Nurse Beta** for her medical expertise and to **Cousin Beta** for her eagle eye. Welcome to all the new readers, and thanks for the response to the bonus chapter. I may not get to all the review responses this time, but I appreciate your sharing your stories and thoughts!

2old


	13. Chapter 13

_Last Chapter:_

" _You have something on your face." Her voice was off by a tone as she moved her hand towards his face, then, as her arm was fully extended, she clasped her other hand and shot back, elbowing James in the solar plexus. As the blonde man pitched forward, Edward pushed his head down, grabbing the messenger bag and pulling the strap against his neck._

 _The man on the ground wasn't giving up so easily, his arms were flailing, trying to get a grip on Edward while gasping for breath. High on something, the man was disproportionally strong. Edward managed to get a knee on his back but James got his legs under himself and bucked Edward off to the side. Edward still had a grip on the messenger bag as James lunged for it, knocking Edward onto his back. He could see Bella grabbing the clipboard out of Peter's hands and swing it sideways, hitting James at the base of his skull. James vomited as he went down, unconscious, across Edward's chest._

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **.**

"So, tell me again. You knew that your girlfriend suspected that James Hunter was the one who called in the bomb threat because she batted her eyes at you?" The bald detective had a full mustache, probably to make up for the stingy strings of hair combed over his scalp.

Edward leaned back in the chair, his eyes closed, tired of the small room and the two detectives and the same questions being asked of him over and over. Was this the part where he should demand his lawyer? He tried to explain clearly and concisely what had happened. Three times. Surely his father was on his way with Uncle Wally, the family attorney. He took a deep breath and began again.

"Bella is my roommate, not my girlfriend. Her mother is a longtime family friend. At a prior meeting she told me she was uncomfortable with the student, James, that she did not want him to know where we lived. The fact that he was with her was immediately suspicious. She blinked three times, then three times again, obviously starting the Morse code pattern for SOS."

"Maybe she had something in her eye?" The detective with the short afro folded up the sleeves of his blue button down. Was that his subconscious signal that now they were really getting down to business? Was it a subtle attempt to intimidate him? Weren't they supposed to play good cop/bad cop, not bad cop/bad cop?

"She elbowed him in the solar plexus. She was trying to incapacitate him, so I followed suit."

"So you attacked this guy because this chick wants you to? Sounds kind of crazy. Help me out here Edward, I'm trying to understand." Baldie had already given him a glass of water. Edward almost laughed at the absurdity, that they were trying to get his fingerprints and a possible DNA sample. _No need, officers, I have my DNA profile with me, check my lab coat._

Edward doubted anyone would ever understand the complex and nuanced relationship he and Bella shared. He had no doubt that she was sending him a signal, why wasn't it clear to these buffoons?

"James was high, I could tell by his dilated pupils. He was sweating although it was 40 degrees outside."

Afro leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Maybe he was coming to the clinic because he was sick? I heard the flu is going around."

Edward shook his head. "No, he was following Bella. Bella said that he knew we were cousins, but we're not cousins, so I knew she was intentionally lying so I'd know something was wrong."

Afro looked at his notes. "And she was coming to the clinic to pick something up?"

"Yes, yes, I told you already. A paternity test. She wanted to know if her mother's husband was actually her father."

"But there were two test results in that envelope, one that tested for a sibling relationship."

"It's possible that we are related. I wanted to be sure."

Baldie sat back in his chair. "But she doesn't know about that?"

"As I've already said, I was going to tell her tonight!" Edward knew he shouldn't raise his voice, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He wanted to know what Bella was saying, how she was feeling. He hadn't seen her since the police had busted up the tangle of he and James. The police had been on the hospital grounds due to the bomb threat and were only too happy to take in some suspects. It was possible when James sobered up, he'd charge Edward with assault, which, if it stuck, would ruin his career. None of this had gone through his mind when he saw Bella in distress. He only knew he had to help her.

The door was swung open by another tall man in a suit. "Let him go."

"What?" The bald detective slapped his hand on the table. "This was just getting good."

Edward walked into the hall. His mother and Renee were hugging Bella, his father and Uncle Wally were huddled together and Charlie was talking to some of the men in uniform behind the counter.

Bella spotted him first and broke away from their mothers, coming to him with open arms. He pulled her into his arms, the relief and his exhaustion and the stress hitting him all at once. As his arms slid around her back and up to her neck he felt the shorn ends of her very short hair. He hadn't thought of it until that moment, and realized that it didn't matter at all. She was safe in his arms.

~T~

"Guess no one told him you're supposed to toss the burner phone after you use it. That perp is an idiot."

Edward had never seen Bella's father laugh. Maybe it was gallows humor as Charlie, holding court from the loveseat, told tale after tale of stupid criminals, laughing at the avarice and foolishness of people.

His father, ensconced in the living room recliner, pointed to the television. "Edward would make a lousy crook. Really, if you're going to assault someone, don't do it with an audience holding camera phones."

Several clips had made it onto the local news, ala the amateur videographers in the waiting room. Of course they'd only captured his actions, not Bella and her keen elbow. The video made it look like he'd attacked James for no reason. Once it was discovered that James had stashed the phone used to call in the bomb threat in his car, Edward transformed from crazed medical student to hero. An abandoned duffle bag, containing an alarm clock and a collection of car parts had been found in the hospital, ultimately harmless but removed with all precaution by the bomb squad.

Through professional courtesy, Charlie learned the investigative team discovered the bomb threat had been a diversion. The messenger bag James was carrying contained a knife, bolt cutters, and a lock pick set: he intended to burglarize the student townhouses while the occupants were kept in their lecture halls on lock down. Blood test revealed cocaine in his system. Bella leaving class early might have foiled his plans as their townhouse was on his list. The detectives believed that was why he followed her to the clinic, to make sure she wouldn't go home. The drugs in his system made him irrational and paranoid, thinking that Bella and Edward were onto him.

They hadn't arrested Bella, but she'd managed to get down to the police station, rallied their parents, and advocated for his release. Someone finally listened to her, searched James' car and apartment. It could have been worse, so much worse. She had a few bruises on her upper arms where James had frog marched her into the clinic. Edward was sore and achy: wrestling a lunatic was not part of his regular workout.

The women clustered around the dining table, both mothers with a hand on Bella, Renee stroking her head, his mother holding her shoulder. The three were talking quietly. Did his mother view her as the daughter she'd never have? Despite the tragedy of her own experience, his mother was able to love someone else's child. She was stronger than he ever thought.

He must have dozed off. Hearing his name he turned to his mother. "What did you say?"

"Go up to bed already, you're exhausted." His mother began picking up the paper wrappings from the sandwiches they'd had for dinner. Bella jumped up to help.

Edward stood and walked to the table to collect the empty glasses.

"Put that down!" Renee took them from his hands. "With the day you've had I'm surprised you're still standing!"

He considered the situation.

Here was everyone that he wanted to question, conveniently gathered in one room. He wanted to confront them, like one of those TV detectives, and demand answers. But then he saw Renee snuggle in next to Charlie, his mom giving his dad a fresh drink…Did he really want to mess this up? He surrendered his need to know to his need for family.

He needed to talk to Bella, to tell her what he'd learned. The results had been returned to him, still rank with James's vomit, in a plastic evidence bag. The explanation could wait until the morning. He waved a good night to everyone and found his bed.

~T~

He was confused for a moment, the house was quiet and there was just enough light in his bedroom to illuminate the female figure standing in the doorway. He settled back into his pillow and made himself comfortable; tonight was going to be another one of those nights he dreamed about Bella. That wasn't so unusual, but tonight instead of a selection from Victoria's Secret she was wearing her plaid flannel pajamas. No matter, however the dreams started, she generally progressed to naked quite quickly. In the past Dream Bella didn't stand by the door, or walk in and start rummaging around his desk as she was doing now. By and large she went right for his boxers.

He reached out a hand. "Mmmm, Baby, come to bed." Dream Bella was usually quick to comply.

"I'm looking for something. And I'm not your Baby."

Bella was actually in his room! "Bella?"

"What?" she hissed. "Where's the report?"

Of course she wanted to look at the report. Why else would real life Bella sneak into his room?

He was too tired to deal with this. "In the morning. Nothing is going to change overnight."

"But I want to know now. I have to know."

Pushing up on his elbows he looked at her starting to pull books from his shelves. "They're not there." He sat up, legs crossed, waiting for her to pay attention.

Pushing his Gross Anatomy book back into place she glared at him. "Put a shirt on."

"This is my room. Until a moment ago I was asleep. This is what I wear to sleep."

"You have pants on?"

"Feel free to check." He didn't expect her to clamber into his bed and pull down his blanket; he was trying to throw her off topic. It would be easier to have this discussion when the four parental figures were not in listening range.

"Just, just show me the report." She put a hand to her head but seemed startled when she ran out of hair.

"I'll show you the report after you tell me why you cut your hair." Until he saw her he'd maintained a slight hope that she had tricked him, and had found a similar length of hair in a beauty supply shop just to fool him, but here she stood, her hair just skimming the nape of her neck. As much as he expected to be disappointed, he wasn't. She was still beautiful to him. If she'd shaved her head, she'd still be beautiful to him.

"Why do you think I cut it?"

"I know what I think. I want to know what you think."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Bella stared at the book case, away from him. "I heard you telling your mother that I distract you. My hair was the only thing that I could change."

So she had been there. Did she stay for every cruel word or did she run before he said the worst of it? He'd been frustrated, trapped by his own emotions, but he never wanted to hurt Bella. "I'm sorry."

She turned slowly and sat on the bed, inches from his thigh. "When I first got to campus I convinced the financial aid officer to cover my room and board next semester, but when I checked out one of the dorms it was so loud, almost frantic. I don't know how anyone gets any serious work done there. My scholarship covers tuition, I can't afford my own place, I'm trying to save up for my own car."

"I didn't think it was so bad, that I was disturbing your work. I've become…accustomed to seeing you. I thought we'd developed a synergy. " She put her hand on his knee, her eyes on his. "I'm sorry I've gotten in your way, but I could spend more time at the library. We could write rules and regulations if that's not enough."

He slipped his hand over hers, hoping she'd get the message without him spelling it out. "I don't need rules and regulations."

She blinked, shaking their joined hands. "You can't be persuaded to change your mind?"

"No."

"Then I'll call housing and…" She moved to get off the bed but he held her hand.

"No, you don't get it. I don't want you to go. I want you to stay."

"But what you said to your mother." Her free hand pointed at his chest. "You told your mother I was driving you crazy."

"Do you always tell your mother the truth?"

She snorted. "Of course not. But what does this have to do with us?"

"You weren't driving me crazy because of who you are." He took her gesturing hand and brought all four of their hands together in a loose knot on his knee. "You were driving me crazy because of who I thought you were."

"What does that mean?"

"I'll explain, but you may not like it."

"As long as it's the truth, I can take it."

Climbing out of bed, he kept his back to her. He'd stripped off at bed time, not expecting anyone else to see him in his thin underwear. At least he'd had the forethought when they arrived home to lay the soiled papers on paper towels in his bathroom, hoping they'd be dry in the morning. He'd separated and blotted the two sheets that were relevant, these were dry around the edges. He carried them by the corners back into his room, the print facing him. "I need to explain something before you—"

Bella stretched out her hands. "I'm sure I can interpret. Let me see them!"

"Two things. First, these were covered in James' vomit. They were in my lab coat pocket."

"Well thank you James. And the second?"

He kept the papers just out of her reach. "I need to explain something about them."

She sighed, shaking her head. "I need a drink."

"There's a bottle of water in the mini fridge."

"No, a real drink."

Peter had given him a bottle of Fireball last Christmas. It's sweet and overwhelmingly cinnamon flavor was too much for him, but he suspected Bella didn't care about flavor at the moment. He set the pages down carefully on a clear space on his desk, returning to the bathroom to wash his hands before getting the bottle. Since he was now wide awake he considered getting a pair of sleep pants, when he realized Bella had the report in her hands. She wasn't looking at it, she was focused down and to her right at some spot on the floor.

He sat next to her.

"It says .006. No relationship. I don't know why I'm surprised."

He could see that she was fighting to keep from crying, and he wished she'd listened to him. "Give me that." He pulled the paper from her hand, and pointed at the heading. "Did you read the whole thing or just look at the numbers?"

"I can read percentages! It means I'm not related to Charlie. I don't know why I'm surprised I—"

"Look at this!" He tapped the paper. "Subject B has .006% DNA in common with subject C. No _sibling_ relationship. I'm subject C. You're not related to me!"

He crossed to his desk and swiped the second page.

"This is the one you're looking for. Subject A and B. 99.97% likelihood that Subject A is the father of Subject B. Charlie is your father."

She took the paper, read it and compared it to the first sheet. He watched her face change from a confused squint to a raised eyebrow, to a scowl. "Why the hell did you do this? Why would you test us for being siblings? Do you know how I felt reading this?"

"You're the one who didn't read the entire report. That's bad science."

"I'll show you bad science." She looked as if she planned to skin him alive.

He edged away. "I'm really sorry about that. I just wondered why my parents were so nice to you, and you're obviously brilliant while you're parents are…average."

"My God, you're a piece of work! You really thought that the only way I could be as smart as you was if we were related?"

"No. Yes—I had my suspicions. My dad took to you like you were the second coming." He sat, trying to deescalate the discussion. "My mother told me something yesterday. Your mother was more than my babysitter. She lived full-time with me and my father for over eighteen months while my mother was away being treatment for post-partum psychosis. You were conceived during that time period."

"So you thought my mom and your dad—ugh."

"Exactly! That's why you were making me crazy. I wanted you, but I thought there was a chance—"

"That I was your half-sister. Well, that would have been…socially unacceptable."

"To put it politely."

"But still—you tried to kiss me that day on the couch. You did that while you thought we…that's gross."

"I was conflicted."

"You were horny."

"I'm trying to explain. I thought if it hadn't crossed your mind when you had the same evidence that I had, I could only reach one conclusion. That you weren't interested in me anyway, since social norms weren't a barrier to you. That's why I couldn't bear to live with you. Thinking what I thought didn't stop me from wanting you, even if it was wrong."

"Maybe I should go into psychology. You could be my first case study."

"I'm glad this is finally settled. I feel less like a frustrated pervert. Now I'm just frustrated."

"I'm not interested in relieving your frustration. I've had empirical evidence of what happens when you're with someone just to satisfy a physical need."

"But I don't want you just for my physical needs. I want you for all my needs. You're perfect for me."

"What did you say?" For some reason she didn't look happy at his declaration. She looked almost angry.

"You're perfect for me."

"There you just said it again, and you don't even realize how offensive you are."

"What? I said you were perfect."

"You said I was perfect _for you_. Not that I'm perfect, or that you love me, but that's I'm perfect _for you_. What if you're not perfect for me?"

Edward was flabbergasted. He'd honestly never thought about being perfect for someone else, he just assumed he was. He slid down to the floor, his hands in his hair. He considered all those perfectly nice girls over the years that he'd tossed aside at the first sign of deviating from his requirements. He certainly wasn't perfect for any of them. He felt low and foolish and more like a child than he had in a long time. "I'm an idiot."

"At last we agree."

"I may be an idiot, but I'm perfect for you as well."

"How do you draw that conclusion?"

"Did you see the movie 'Whiplash'?"

She shook her head.

"The protagonist is a supremely gifted percussionist. No one understands him. His family has no respect for musicians. He breaks up with his girlfriend because she's directionless and could never understand what it takes to be great. The only one who gets him is the crazy, sadistic professor, who torments him while teaching, pushing him to the limits of his talent."

"So in order to achieve your greatest potential you have to be alone and driven by crazy people?"

"No, not at all. He made a mistake choosing a girlfriend that didn't, couldn't, understand him and his needs. What if he was in a relationship with another prodigy, someone who wouldn't pitch a fit when he practiced for hours, when he was obsessed with his work, because she would be obsessed with her own work?"

"So for practical reasons, this musician picks someone with the same life goals."

"Not just that. Two people, similarly talented and focused. Together their drive wouldn't be additive, it would be squared! Or cubed, or quadrupled! It would be better for both of them, sparking extraordinary achievement. Instead of resentment there would be pride in each other's accomplishments. Instead of guilt that they weren't spending every moment together, there would be comfort in knowing that your partner supported your work."

"Doesn't sound very likely. Finding someone who would understand you so perfectly."

"Exactly, it's not likely at all."

"Extraordinarily rare."

"Rare. So rare, that if you ever found that person, the person who would make you the best version of yourself, and you could help them become the best version of themselves, it's almost an obligation to be together. Like a natural law. Like the universe is telling them something."

"So you're saying it would be some sort of cosmic obligation?"

"No, not an obligation. A gift, the most perfect gift, to each other."

"I don't believe in soulmates."

"Neither do I. But I believe in singularities."

"You're comparing me to a Black Hole?"

"No, I'm comparing you to something unique in the universe. You're one of a kind." He slid his eyes over. She sat, still staring at the paper in her hand, but he knew she wasn't reading. "Look, don't worry about it. I won't pursue you if you're not interested. You can stay here, even if you aren't attracted to me."

"I didn't say that."

"What? You said—"

"You haven't given me much time to say anything. I never said I wasn't attracted to you, but your behavior has been…erratic. I thought you were just interested in some convenient stress relief. I didn't want to become another girl in your string of long haired girls. And I thought you needed long hair to, you know." She looked meaningfully at his lap.

"No! I told you, I don't have Trichophilia! Your mother became a maternal stand-in for me. I didn't understand until my mother told me the full story, but women with long hair represented security, love, and safety to me. I don't need long hair to get me—you know."

"So where does that leave us?"

"I think you know where I stand. What do you think?"

"I want to wash my hands then go to bed."

"Okay, we can talk tomorrow after our—"

"I want to go to bed with you."

He stopped short as she walked the short distance to his bathroom.

She shook her head. "No sex tonight, just sleep."

He hung onto the word 'tonight'.

Hands clean, they got into bed, even though she went in on his side he didn't complain, just walked to the other side, pulling the comforter up over them. She was too far away so he stretched out a hand, finding hers. "Come over here. Please."

She scooched over to meet him in the middle. "You passed that test."

"What test?"

"I wanted to see if you'd complain when I got in your side."

"How did you know?"

"Obvious, your water bottle and box of tissues are on this side. The alarm clock is on the other, so you have to reach over to get up."

"My clever girl." He laughed quietly. "Since I passed do I get a reward?"

"I forgot my gold stars."

"Darn. What do I get instead?."

She didn't answer. Instead she rolled until they were eye to eye and lips to lips. He felt a brush of velvet against his top lip, then another dead center. He didn't want to frighten her off, so he slowly ran his hands up her sides, to her back, to her head. Her hair felt like sable paintbrushes against his fingers. With the slightest pressure he kissed back. Her tongue glided along his lower lip and he sucked it into his mouth, his tongue engulfed hers. He rolled to lay flat, pulling her on top of him. She couldn't be completely inexperienced; or was it instinct that made her settle directly on top of his already solid cock. His hand cupped the soft flannel covering her ass, pressing her tighter against himself. She took the lead, rubbing up and down, focusing on the friction in the hot junction between them. They traded kisses until they were both breathless and then it was too much, he was erupting in his boxers, her hips swiveled against him, her high pitched gasps telling him she'd come as well. Slowing, she collapsed on top of him, resting her cheek against his chest. He needed to get cleaned up, but he wanted this moment to wash over them for a bit before they returned to the practicalities of life.

He whispered into the top of her head, "That's all that's happening with your dad on the sleeper sofa."

"That's right. He's my dad." She curled into him even closer. "That's my Dad sleeping on the sofa."

~T~

He suspected he was dreaming, until the tickle of Bella's hair on his nose made him sneeze, loudly.

She startled in his arms. "Jeesh, what a way to wake up! What time is it?"

He squinted at his alarm clock behind her. "7:04."

She made no move to get away from the circle of his arms. "The parentals were leaving by 6:00. The coast should be clear."

He found the newly un-curtained nape of her neck irresistible. He placed slow, open mouthed kisses from her clavicle up to the base of her neck, to the pale skin at top of her spine. She squirmed, sighing with what he hoped was pleasure. Any other girl he would assume as much, but with Bella he wouldn't take a chance. "You like that?"

"God, yes!" She arched her neck, giving him more skin to caress. "But we both have places to be at 8:00."

"Five more minutes." His hand slid to her side, temptingly close to her breast. But if he started that, there was no way either of them was getting out of that bed. "Tonight. We continue this tonight."

"Yes." She kissed his neck. "Yes." She kissed his back. "Yes." She kissed his shoulder. "Tonight." She slide to the edge of the bed, looking back at him.

He now understood why men went to war for the love of a woman. He would have followed her anywhere. Up on his elbows he watched as she found her pants that had somehow escaped to the floor. There was another round of kissing and rubbing in the middle of the night, and he'd needed to feel more of her skin, but that was as far as they went. She draped the plaid flannel over her shoulder, then crossed to his door. He'd never seen this playful side of her, or as much of her legs. She smiled as she left his room.

No sooner had the door snicked closed, when he heard Charlie's voice from the first floor. "I knew it!"

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay, it takes a while to get back in the groove after being away. We're almost at the end here. I am WAY behind on even reading reviews, but I figured you'd rather have a chapter. Thanks to **Nurse Beta** for reading at 2:00 am and to **Cousin Beta** , who stopped me from just posting the first half of this chapter, warning that I'd be lynched for leaving you with another cliffie.


	14. Chapter 14

**Last Chapter**

" _Yes." She kissed his neck. "Yes." She kissed his back. "Yes." She kissed his shoulder. "Tonight." She slide to the edge of the bed, looking back at him._

 _He now understood why men went to war for the love of a woman. He would have followed her anywhere. Up on his elbows he watched as she found her pants that had somehow escaped to the floor. There was another round of kissing and rubbing in the middle of the night, and he'd needed to feel more of her skin, but that was as far as they went. She draped the plaid flannel over her shoulder, then crossed to his door. He'd never seen this playful side of her, or as much of her legs. She smiled as she left his room._

 _No sooner had the door snicked closed, when he heard Charlie's voice from the first floor. "I knew it!"_

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

How exactly had the best morning of his life degraded into this catastrophe?

He considered squeezing under his bed or hiding in the walk-in closet, but he couldn't live with himself if he left Bella to face her father alone.

Digging out a pair of sleep pants and a tee-shirt Edward went to join the argument in the hall.

"You!" Charlie was standing midway up the stairs, pointing at him. "You told me she never slept in your room!"

"Dad, we just slept." Bella had donned her pajama pants, but her shirt was on inside out. Not the best morning after look if she were going for innocent. "Leave him alone!"

"No, I'll answer." As Edward moved to stand next to Bella he caught a glimpse of his Einstein like hair in the mirror. About as damning as Bella's inside out clothing. "Last night was the first time Bella was ever in my room."

"But not the last time!" Bella reached for Edward's hand.

Her hand in his gave him some comfort, but the irate looking man blocking the stairs wasn't backing down. He was glad she wasn't afraid of her father, but he sure as hell was.

"So you had sex with him, with all of us sleeping under this roof?"

"No, we've never had sex."

"So, you're a virgin?"

"I didn't say that."

"Charlie!" Renee called up from the bottom of the stairs. "What are you doing?"

"Bella slept in Edward's room."

"And?"

"She's a baby!"

"Oh Charlie!" She waved to Bella and Edward. "All of you, kitchen table. I made banana pancakes."

"Mom, I have to get to lecture and Edward has clinic hours."

"News flash, neither of you will flunk if you miss a few hours. We're figuring this out. Now."

While he resented being told what to do in his own apartment, their secret was out and there was nothing to do but face the music. Charlie and Renee spoke in low voices; she seemed to be chastising him. That should work in their favor, yes?

He sat at the kitchen table, expecting Bella to join him, but she'd turned to make a preemptive strike.

"Mom, this is hypocritical of you. What about all those lectures about the 'antiquated patriarchal ownership of a woman's maidenhead'? All that, 'I'm responsible for my own sexuality', or was that just noise?"

"Sweetie, you've got me all wrong! I'm sad you didn't tell me you shared your sacred femininity for the first time. It's a cause for celebration! Remember the Moon party for your menarche? The red rice and beans and the ladies from my Reiki class?"

Edward wasn't sure which was most disturbing, the idea of having a party to celebrate Bella's first menstrual cycle or the fact that she wasn't a virgin. He hadn't been a virgin at her age, so he wasn't shocked, but he irrationally wanted to beat this unknown male for having sex with her while simultaneously hoping he was gentle with her. The idea of Renee and her friends celebrating a biological function with Bella, who probably thought the whole thing a pointless New-Age ritual, made him want to giggle. Charlie's face, drained of all humor, made him hold back any comment. He tried to keep his expression as blank as possible. The man was a police officer and carried a gun, and while Edward had some experience suturing wounds, he didn't think he could stitch himself up.

Bella took the seat to his right, Charlie sat at the head of the table, taking a long drink from a coffee mug while eyeing Edward's forehead.

Renee brought in a platter of pancakes and a jug of syrup. "You know it's not too late Baby. I'm going to Google if there are any special ceremonies for sharing your virginity."

"Sure there is." Charlie slapped the table. "It's called a wedding!"

"Charlie, we didn't wait for a wedding."

Edward wanted to high five Renee, but instead put two pancakes on his plate.

Renee sat across from her husband, but reached across the table to grab Bella's hand. "So how was your first time? Was he any good? Did he make you climax? Who was it?"

Charlie stole the words from Edward's mouth. "Do we need to discuss this now?"

"That's the problem with keeping sex a taboo subject. Shrouding this natural part of being a human being, that's what caused the Madonna-Whore complex." Renee took a sip of her tea. "Society would be better off with a matriarchal system."

By the resigned look on Bella's face, Edward guessed this was not the first time she'd heard this lecture.

Putting down her mug, and ignoring the fact that her daughter and husband were staring at their plates, Renee continued. "The whole concept of virginity is absurd anyway, just an economic device to insure that a man was raising his own offspring. With the advent of DNA testing, there's absolutely no reason…"

Charlie looked up from his plate. "Speaking of DNA, what the hell were you doing with DNA results in your pocket? Are you someone's father?"

Edward wondered what else the police had shared with Charlie, and whatever happened to confidentiality when Bella spoke.

"No, but you are, Dad. We tested your DNA."

"Can anyone here give a straight answer?" Charlie pushed back from his seat, pointing between Edward and Bella. "You two are sleeping together, but not having sex. You," he pointed to Renee, "Want to have a party because our underage daughter had sex. And for some reason you people did a DNA test on me? Is there something else you want to tell me?" He turned back to Bella. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"What?" Edward stared at Bella, who was shaking her head. They both turned to Renee, who was nodding.

Charlie looked like he was going into shock. "Really?"

Renee was smiling and crying while Charlie rushed around to her chair, pulling her into a hug. Bella got up and joined the huddle.

Edward wasn't sure what to do, he wasn't prepared for this type of social situation. Make a silent retreat to his room? Congratulate the apparently happy couple? Did no one else see the irony that the man who'd been having a fit that his daughter might be having sex was now brought to tears when the evidence of what he'd been doing with his wife was presented to all of them? The quiet escape sounded like the best plan when he heard his father's voice coming from the stairs. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, fine Carlisle." Renee seemed the most together of the group. "Bella is going to be a big sister."

Thumping quickly down the stairs, Carlisle joined the crowd circling Renee. "That's wonderful!" His father rubbed his eyes, kissing Renee on the cheek and thumping Charlie on the shoulder. "It's…"

"You can say it Carlisle. A lot happier than last time I found myself knocked up."

"Yes, I didn't want to say—"

"No more secrets," Renee smiled while sniffing away her tears."That's the key to good relationships."

Edward looked to get Bella's attention. Surely being told that the news of her existence was unwelcome must be hurtful, but she was still smiling.

Renee took Bella's face in her hands. "I found out I was pregnant with you right after Charlie and I had had a huge fight. I called him a drunk and he accused me of sleeping with Carlisle. He left town on his motorcycle and I never got to tell him I was pregnant."

She turned her attention to him, reaching out a hand and holding his forearm. "Edward, I want you to know the kind of man your father is. He told me I could stay, and that he would help me raise the baby if that was what I wanted to do. He gave me tuition money, he wanted me to get my GED and go to college. He even offered to find Charlie and convince him there was never anything inappropriate between us."

"Yes,' Carlisle said, "Bella could have been raised with you, like a little sister."

"Then my mother was offered a job in Florida. If my own boyfriend thought I was shacking up with Carlisle, I figured the rest of the town was thinking the same thing."

Edward considered how awkward falling in love with a pseudo-sister would have been, only marginally more acceptable than a half-sister, and he silently thanked Renee for choosing to leave town.

"Then my Mom got sick and my tuition money went to pay for all the things you don't think about when someone has cancer. But I don't want to talk about sad today."

"Yes, we can all have a toast." Carlisle headed to the kitchen. "I'll get some orange juice. It's high in folic acid."

Bella was back in her seat, but was still holding Renee's hand. "Mom, when did you find out?"

"I literally was peeing on the stick when Esme called to tell me they were headed to the jail. Frankly, there didn't seem to be a good time to tell anyone until now."

"Who was peeing on a stick?" Esme, still wrapped in her bathrobe, was looking accusingly at Edward.

"Me. I'm preggers!"

"Oh, Rennie! Congratulations!"

Edward whipped his head around to look at his mother. "You called her Rennie."

"So? I've called her that for years."

"When she was my babysitter, we all called her Leia."

"Oh baby, that was just to humor you. When you weren't around, I called her Rennie."

"So all these years, when you were talking about Rennie's little girl, you were talking about Bella?"

"Obviously." Esme squeezed in to hug Renee. "Not that you ever listened to me."

He remembered hearing the phrase, 'Rennie's little girl' many times. Of course, that was in the midst of Barbara's nephew, and Sandy's granddaughter and the hordes of people his mother kept up with and talked about seemingly all the time. If only he had known to pay attention. He could have known Bella for years, been there for her. He had a sudden notion. If it hadn't been for him and his special requirements, Renee wouldn't have been living with his father, she never would have gotten into the row with Charlie, and maybe Charlie would have gotten his life together sooner if he knew he was going to be a father. Bella might have known her father from the beginning and had the support of two parents. He looked at Renee. "I promise, I won't mess up your life this time. If you didn't have to stay with me night and day-"

"What are you talking about my little Ewok? If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have had any idea how to handle Miss Brainiac here. I wasn't a great mom, but if I hadn't cut my teeth on you I wouldn't have recognized when she started reading as a baby. How else would I know that giving a three year old some Sudoku puzzles would be soothing? I'm glad we had that time together young man, never doubt it."

Carlisle set glasses of juice in front of everyone. "Here's to new beginnings!"

"Congratulations!"

"Great News!"

Watching Bella over his glass, he was happy to see her smile. It seemed the baby news had successfully derailed the earlier conversation.

"So, as I was saying," Charlie had returned to his seat at the head of the table and was again glaring at him, "What was that about the DNA test? It had nothing to do with this baby, since no one knew that Renee was expecting."

Edward's father set down his glass. "I was trying to figure that out too."

What ethical standards were we operating under here? Did everyone know everything? Did he have no privacy at all?

Bella leaned in. "It's kind of a funny story. I wasn't sure if you were my biological father. Edward had a theory that we might be related. We added up all the evidence and came to the wrong conclusion."

"See that Renee? It wasn't just me who came up with that idea." Charlie pointed between Edward and Bella. "They're smart, and they thought it was possible."

"You forget that I _knew_ there was no other possible father, unless some alien probed me while I was sleeping." She turned to Bella. "I'm sorry you wasted your money. But your father and I settled this between us years ago, or I never would have married him."

"I'm glad that's done." Edward gulped the last of his coffee and stood. "Now, we could still make cl—"

"Oh, we're not done." Charlie pushed him back into his seat. "My daughter half naked in your room. Explain that!"

Esme smiled. "We thought we heard something."

"She's still seventeen." Charlie was getting louder. "It's not appro—"

"Dad." Bella interrupted. "I did mom's tax returns for six years, incorporated her business, trademarked her brand, and set up her website. The only reason I didn't become an emancipated minor was I knew it would break mom's heart. Age based laws are ridiculous in my case. Do you really think I lack the ability to make rational decisions?"

"Baby, the heart doesn't know about rational." Renee had that funny upside-down frown-smile on her face, tilting her head towards her daughter. "Just as long as you're careful. I'm not ready to be a grandma yet."

And somehow everyone was staring at him again, as if his plan was to knock Bella up as soon as they were alone. "I need to call in if I'm going to be late." He escaped to the kitchen before someone else had something more to say about his embryonic romance.

Whatever the police had done to his phone while he was still under investigation, he'd never know, but it had been returned to him with a dead battery. It was charged now and as he turned it on it began to ring. Odd, since everyone who might call him at this hour was in the other room, unless it was Peter begging for a ride. It was a private number, but on the chance it was a professor or resident, he answered.

"Is this Edward Cullen?"

He answered yes cautiously.

"I'd like to set up an interview with New Day Northwest, as part of the 'Everyday Hero's' segment."

The young woman rattled off his address, asking him if they could bring a camera crew that afternoon.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy in the afternoon."

"Then tonight, whatever works for you. We could set up a phone interview in five minutes, we want to talk about your bravery at the hospital—"

"Miss, just give me a minute." An incoming call was toning in, with a New York number. "Call back in five minutes."

He turned off the phone and held it like a specimen bag between two fingers as he walked back into the dining room. "Some news show wants to talk to me. And someone from New York is calling."

"How exciting!" Renee and his mother gasped together.

"Not exciting, ridiculous. I only did what I did because of Bella, they should be interviewing her."

"No way." Bella put both hands up. "You take your fifteen minutes of fame."

"I'd be happy for some recognition for some project or invention or breakthrough. Knocking someone down is-is-"

"It's brave sweetheart." His mother took the phone out of his hand. "If you want me to set something up I will. If you want me to fend them off, I'll do it. I'm sure after a day or two there'll be another story for them to follow."

"Yes, thank you. Get rid of them, please. Really, if Bella hadn't batted her eyelashes three times, I wouldn't have known what was going on."

"I only batted my eyes because you didn't catch when I said 'knows' three times."

"What are you talking about, you didn't say it three times."

"I did, I was sure you would catch my unlikely speech pattern. It was glaringly obvious. How often do I use the same word in as many sentences? I was forced to give the more obvious signal of batting my eyes and in case you didn't catch on, I elbowed him in the solar plexus."

"It was certainly not glaringly obvious."

"You know, I'm suddenly not worried." Charlie laughed as he loaded his plate with half the remaining pancakes. "You're either going to kill each other or be together forever."

~T~

He wasn't sure what his next step should be between him and Bella. They had had no time to discuss what a relationship would mean since, when they finally escaped the townhouse and the tribunal of parents, they had to go their separate ways. He plunged into his work, trying to placate his resident and to ignore all the funny and mocking comments about his brush with the whack job James.

"The back of my head, seriously, that was me. Yeah, gotta go." Peter sat at the break room table, clicking off from his call. "You're internet famous, dude. If only you stood back a little, people would have seen me, but noooo. No one believes it was me."

"What are you talking about?" Edward broke the dry granola bar in pieces. He was trying to make up for his lateness by skipping lunch, but he was starving.

"Check your phone."

His mother had kept his phone since every time he turned it on there was another call or text. He'd had to use Bella's phone to call in that he'd be late, since every time he tried to dial out on his he got an incoming call. "I don't have it on me."

"Someone put up a video of you pounding on James and it's already over four million views. You're trending on twitter man, #hotdocsaveme and #doctorsexhair. There were girls with signs out front; security chased them away. Man, you could ride this pussy train for years. Just, you know, sharing is caring. Feel free to help a brother out."

"No." Edward shook his head. "I have no interest in any of that Pete. It's absurd."

"But your dry spell is over, seriously, when your groupies come back you can just pick and choose. At least one of them has got to have long hair." Peter paused before taking another bite of his sandwich. "I'd be happy to audition them for you, weed out the crazies."

"You're the one who's crazy. Why would I be interested in some lunatic with a sign when I have Bella?"

"Whoa, when did this happen? Last I heard you were just roommates."

"A lot happened in the last 24 hours." Edward walked across to the hall window, and peered out to the front entrance. Sure enough, there were women with signs standing out front. The last thing he needed was to be followed by some fanatical horde of women. Earlier he noticed suspiciously well coiffed women wearing skimpy clothes sitting in the clinic waiting room, who wiggled their fingers at him when he passed. They looked nothing like their usual clients.

"Pete, I need your help."

~T~

He made a mental note to wear a hat tomorrow. It was surprising how much heat was lost out of a bare head. Pete was more than happy to grab the electric razor they used when someone needed stitches on a hairy place, and buzzed until Edward's head resembled a cue ball. It worked. He walked past the small crowd of people, who were looking for his easily identifiable red mane, and made it to his car in peace.

Her shoes were in their spot by the front door. He resisted the urge to shout 'Honey, I'm home', instead he rapidly put his things away and went in search of Bella.

"Is the coast clear? Did they go home?"

"Crystal clear." She sat cross-legged on the sofa, a shiny new mobile phone in her hands. She didn't look up. "I programmed your new phone, downloaded your contacts from the cloud and I'm just adjusting your calendar."

His mother told him she was going to pick up a new phone with a new number before they went home, what he didn't expect was Bella taking it upon herself to- "How did you know my password?"

"Seriously? Ewok?" She continued clicking.

He grew uncomfortable with her seizing control of his phone. Was this her interpretation of a relationship, suddenly she was telling him what to do? What were these adjustments to his calendar?

"What adjustments?"

"I reviewed our schedules for points of congruence. I eliminated one of your workout days."

"But I—"

"This way we'll be home together for a few hours at least three times a week. Studies have shown that having intercourse three times a week has significant long term health benefits."

"I…you're… brilliant!"

"I know."

Finally she looked up, her gaze stopping at his hairless head.

"Hashtag Doctor Sex Hair?"

"How did you know?"

"You're an internet sensation. I heard it all day." She flicked her hand at him. "Now go take a shower. I'll be in your room in," she checked the phone, "fourteen minutes."

"You don't want to go somewhere romantic for our first time, some sort of bed and breakfast or something?" He was confused. Other girls he'd dated had been all about the setting and timing. When he tried to explain that sex would feel as good in his apartment as in an expensive hotel room, he'd been informed that he wasn't romantic enough. Unless this was another test? He was still considering when Bella put his phone on the table.

"If you want to wait four months until we both have a full weekend off together, sure. Or, thirteen minutes."

He didn't have to weigh that decision. "I'll go with thirteen minutes."

~T~

Patting his bald head with a towel, he opened the bathroom door to his room. As promised, wearing just her pajama top, her long pale legs stretched across his comforter, Bella was sitting against his headboard. His box of condoms wasn't in their usual place in his drawer, they were on top of the end table, next to the alarm clock. She was serious. He gulped in anticipation.

"You're absolutely sure none of our parents are coming back tonight."

"Yep." She turned onto her side, looking him up and down. "I threw the dead bolt while you were in the shower. If they come back they'll just have to wait until we're done."

"You're sure? This isn't very romantic."

"Edward, we don't have time for romantic."

It was a little unsettling. He wasn't used to a woman being so upfront with her sexual needs, but considering who she was raised by, he shouldn't be surprised. Why was he hesitating?

He climbed on the bed and crawled across to where she was waiting, the towel around his waist falling away in the process.

She flinched, moving a little bit away from him. Why was she hesitating? "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. My mother has a copy of _The Joy of Sex_ and _Kama Sutra_ right next to the dictionary. I want to see if sex lives up to the hype."

He froze. "You told your parents you'd had sex."

"Just kidding?" She was blushing, biting her lip, the first time he'd ever seen her flush for any reason.

He grabbed his towel, shielding his eagerness.

"No, don't cover up." She put her chin down, took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I just didn't want them to know, to think…it's stupid, it's illogical. I want you. I don't know why I feel this way."

Her sharing her doubts was more intimate than her nudity. He touched her knee, waiting for her to look at him. "Because you're human. You're allowed to have emotions. Having sex for the first time is still a big deal, even if you're an enlightened, empowered, sex positive person."

"You have been listening to my mother." Bella covered her eyes with one hand. "It's just I want to be amazing at this. The one thing brain power won't help me with."

"That's where you're wrong. Your brain is the sexiest part of you." He reached out, sweeping his fingers through her soft strands, pushing her hand away from her face. "Look at me. We can wait or we can do something else. Just because sex is on the schedule doesn't-"

Her hands reached out for his head, pulling him in for a long kiss. Her tongue slid into his mouth and he responded, stroking in her mouth as she hitched her leg over his hip, pushing the towel away with her foot.

He pulled away after a few minutes to get a breath. "Do you want me to turn the light out?"

"No way. I want to see it all."

He slide a hand up her smooth thigh to her bare ass. Taking his time he lifted her pajama top, giving her ample opportunity to stop him. Instead she sat up and helped pull it over her head. They'd been almost this far last night, but they'd kept their underpants on. They were fast forwarding, not that he was complaining, but he wanted to make sure she was ready for him mentally and physically. Bella reached into the box on his nightstand.

He took the condom from her, putting it under the pillow. "Not yet. Let me take the lead." She squinted at him. "This time. Next time, you're the driver."

He flipped her onto her back, his elbows holding him just above her body. His lips trailed down her neck to her collar bone, where he licked and sucked gently, chasing her blush, before circling her breasts with his tongue. Sucking, then rolling each nipple with his tongue he could feel the tender skin grown tight, harder, just as his cock grew harder hearing her moans and feeling her hips make little circles under him. Dragging his tongue flat down her center-line he stopped at her navel, shifting himself down the bed. She must have showered when she got home, the almond scent sweeter in this little pocket of her body.

Kissing further down he spoke against her skin. "I see we both shaved today."

He could feel her body shaking with laughter as she slapped his shoulder.

"Back to work, you."

Glad she was relaxed enough to joke, he traced calligraphy words on her soft skin.

His tongue met his final destination and her knees clamped around his ears. Sliding his hands up her inner thighs he spread them, giving himself room to operate. Making tiny circles on her succulent bud, he stroked her entrance with his thumbs, tracing her lips with her own liquid until she was panting wordlessly. One finger rubbing against her inner wall reduced his genius girlfriend to a series of "Ah-ah-ahhhhhs!"

Speeding up his movements, he focused on the spot inside that made her gasp. He was good at this, the technical aspect of sex, and it wasn't his first time pleasing a woman this way, but it was the first time that he was doing it not as a means to an end, but because he wanted her to be happy, to reach that point of ecstasy. For once he wasn't counting down the moments until the girl came so he could swoop in and get his. He wanted Bella to have a glorious first time. Sure, he'd be overjoyed to consummate their relationship, but his priority was her. Bella's hands had left his scalp and were pulling at the sheets, her head thrashing back and forth. It wasn't long before she was slick and trembling inside, shouting her release. Proud of himself, he looked up to see her slack jawed expression. "How was that?"

Still breathless she answered, "Better than the books."

He was about to ask that awkward question, 'Are you sure?' when she fished under the pillow and handed him the condom.

"Suit up, cowboy."

Kneeling so he could use both hands to sheath himself, Bella rose up too.

She pushed on his shoulders. "On your back." Flopping onto the mattress she straddled him. "I heard it's easier this way."

"However you want to do it." He put his hands on her hips to keep their connection, but let her lead.

She leaned over him for a kiss. "How is it you're never this compliant out of bed?"

"I'm exactly where I want to be with the person I most want to be with. Why wouldn't I be compliant?"

"I love your logic."

She stroked his cock around her opening, sank a few inches then rose the same distance. He resisted the urge to push up or pull her down by the hips. He'd told her she could drive and even though her actions were making him mad with lust, he held back. His hands drifted to her breasts, bobbing above him. As his palms rubbed the warm weight of her in his hands, she stopped her teasing and slammed down until their hips met. He felt a little tightness, but no dramatic tearing of any maidenhead. She hissed once, but in a moment was back to riding him. He started to contribute, bucking up as she drove down, trying his damnedest to hold back until she came again. She might have been in charge, but that didn't mean he couldn't give a helping hand. His thumb found her clit and swirled until she was gasping and he could feel the answering tightness around his cock. That did him in, pulsing into her, calling her name until she fell forward onto his chest.

He glided his hands over her damp skin. In the heat of the moment he never noticed how sweaty things got, and while the feeling of her surrounding him was incredible, they needed to clean up. In a moment. His hand found her hair, damp at the back of her neck and behind her ears. He fluffed it up, circling, his fingers spanning almost her whole head as he caressed her.

She giggled into his chest. "I'm waiting for you to start saying 'my precious'."

"Are you suggesting I look like Gollum?"

Her hand slid up to his bald head. "You've got the same barber."

"You are precious." He touched her chin until she was looking at me. "You are precious to me. Bella, I love you."

"That's convenient." She smiled back at him. "Because I think I love you too."

"What would convince you?" He lifted his hips, jiggling her a little.

"I don't know how to do this." She pointed from her chest to his.

"What, sex? I think you did a fine job."

"I don't know how to do a relationship."

"That's an experiment we can work on together." He took her hand, kissing her fingers. "I suggest a long term study."

"We'll need to gather extensive, detailed data." She smiled, eyes shining back at him. "How long a study do you propose?"

"The rest of our lives."

.

* * *

.

 **AN** : Sorry this is late. I overestimated my ability to catch up with December after escaping for the first two weeks of the month. Many thanks to **Cousin Beta** for checking out the first half of this chapter and to **Beta-in-training Zoe** for her input. **Nurse Beta** is busy making sick people better. The lemon was all me since it's hard to discuss acceptable words for penis with people you see in real life.

Thanks to the reviewer who mentioned Edward saying 'my precious'. It wouldn't leave my brain, so there it is, thanks for the suggestion! I can't find your review (thanks FF) or I would have posted your name.


	15. Bella the Virgin

**Bella the Virgin,**

or

 _ **Three Times Bella tried to Cash in Her V-Card**_

Carnal knowledge, to Bella's way of thinking, was just one more thing to check off in her quest for a complete education. Going to high school at a young age put her at a distinct disadvantage. Meaning boobs, or lack thereof. Boobs were the currency of the high school girl. Have them, and the male population was at your beck and call. Lack of 'fun bags' hampered the ability to appear as an object of sexual desire, except for the creepy history teacher who liked little girls. This wasn't a problem at the start since she wasn't interested in sex while in her early teens. She began taking college courses on line, which kept her at home or at her mother's shop and away from the potential mating pool known as the high school male. Around the age of fifteen, having read and reread her mother's copy of Master's and Johnson's _Sex Book_ , she began to have the urge to try it herself. She had no interest in a relationship, some silly boy who might interfere with her studies or expect her to dress a particular way. No, she needed someone who was willing but would then go away.

As her mother liked to say, if you put a wish out into the universe, the universe will try to make it happen. The studio next to her mother's shop had yoga classes, and frequently after a practice, participants would wander in. Bella watched out the window as the women and men, yoga mats rolled under their arms, filed past the store to the studio.

"I'm off to class, mind the store Baby." Renee rushed out, her own purple mat in hand. "It's a guest instructor from Pasadena, we might go long."

She nodded. Her mother practiced yoga at least three times a week, this was nothing new. Mornings were slow. Bella had completed inventory last night, placed an order, paid the bills and signed up for next semester classes. She'd finally convinced Renee and Charlie that there were some classes you just couldn't take on line and she was looking forward to being in a classroom again. Maybe she'd find someone worth talking to. She settled back with an issue of JAMA to pass the time when the chimes on the door sounded.

Teenage boys were not their usual clientele. Sometimes they'd wander in, looking for grass but Renee didn't sell anything illegal, especially now that Charlie the Cop was hanging around. The boy was a fairly athletic looking specimen, dark hair, dark eyes, not quite six foot tall.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Nah. Just looking to kill an hour. My mom's leading the class next door."

"My mom's taking the class."

He nodded in response, holding a crystal necklace up to the light.

Bella's always efficient brain started whirling. "So you live in Pasadena?"

"Yeah," He gave a short cross between a laugh and a cough. "But apparently I'm 'too immature' to stay there alone while she goes 'on the road'. One bottle of booze in the house and she freaks out. I'm stuck carrying her stuff for three weeks."

Bella stowed her reading material behind the counter. "Is there a girl you're missing?"

"No." He walked closer. His mating instinct must have kicked in, because suddenly he was all smiles, leaning on her counter, looking at her boobs which had finally made an appearance in the last six months.

While she wasn't a fan of men who only saw women as sexual objects, for her purposes he was perfect. Interested and temporary.

"My parents won't even let me have a boyfriend." Bella watched as his irises grew, the first sign of desire. She tilted her head, exposing her neck, running her fingers through her hair, all proven signals used by women as part of the mating dance.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," she lied. "It's so unfair."

"That sucks." He put his shoulders back, leaning closer to her until he was inches away. "You don't know what you're missing."

His forearm on the counter was lightly tanned with a moderate covering of hair. She trailed a finger up from his wrist to his bicep. "Do you work out?" She didn't think he was incredibly developed, but knew men enjoyed having their muscles fawned over.

"Some." His hand went to her hair. "You have long hair."

Yes, please regale me with more witty banter. She restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She wasn't looking for breeding potential, she just wanted to get rid of her pesky virginity. "Do you like long hair?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do." He took the excuse to move closer to her. His basketball shorts were showing some movement.

The door chimes sounded and Jane the mail carrier came through. "Hey Bella, this all I got for you today."

The older woman placed a small pile of envelopes and catalogs on the counter. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the boy. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, um, this is—"

"Garrett." Garrett answered, giving a small wave. At least she now knew the name of the male who would be relieving her of her virginity.

"Have fun kids." Jane pulled her bag higher on her shoulder and continued on her route.

"So, do want to take her advice?"

"What advice?"

Bella kept her head still, not nodding in frustration. She needn't care about this guy's GPA, she just wanted use of his erect penis. She'd have to be more direct. "I thought I could lock the door and we could go in the back to have some fun."

"Seriously?" His voice went up an octave.

"Yeah, seriously. Unless you don't want to."

"Fuck yeah I do." He was breathing hard, as she imagined someone who'd just found out they'd won the lottery might.

She pushed past him, rubbing against the bulge in his shorts as she made her way to the door. He'd do.

There was a sofa in the back room for those afternoons her mother had a migraine. Bella threw a beach towel over the blue fabric, not wanting to leave any kind of trace evidence. Garrett stood at a loss, apparently struck dumb by his stroke of good luck.

"Make yourself comfortable." Bella went into the tiny back office where she kept her bag. She reached in the zippered pocket for the three pack of condoms she'd bought a few weeks ago. The store stocked an all-natural, sheepskin brand, but that was one inventory item her mother paid attention to and she didn't want to risk her finding out. Which was really a joke on Bella, because her mother would be happy to discuss details of Bella's first sexual experience with her—she'd probably be thrilled to give advice, a special blessing and essential oils to increase her pleasure, but for once Bella wanted something of her own. Her mother was all about 'sharing life experiences' which was lovely, but didn't a person deserve a few secrets, a few private things they could draw on? And what was her mother always blathering about, being sex-positive and finding her bliss? She wanted to find her bliss, she just didn't want everyone else to know about it.

Latex in hand, she found Garrett on the sofa, his shirt off. She was all about efficiency, so she pulled off her shirt, quickly unhooking and tossing her bra before she changed her mind.

"Whoa, fuck yeah!"

Okay, she reminded herself, she wasn't concerned with his verbal score on the SATs. And boobs tended to make boys stupid, she knew this.

She shimmied her shorts and panties off, which inspired Garrett to do the same. His penis seemed proportionate for his size, adequately enlarged. It should do the job.

She sat and his hands went right for her breasts, squeezing as if they were rubber balls.

"A little too hard there."

He said "Sorry," but didn't remove his hands from her. "Can I kiss them?"

"Sure."

It was pleasant, and he was eager, sucking one then the other, then back to the first. She noticed a drop of fluid stretching from his penis. She had no interest in combining her gene pool with his. She held out the condom. "You need to use this."

"Sure." He looked down at his lap. "Could you, um, touch it first?"

She didn't mind touching it if it would help him complete the task. It was warm and surprisingly heavy in her hand, sort of the way she selected melons. If his penis was a piece of fruit, she'd judge him to be perfectly ripe. The seminal fluid was a decent lubricant helping her hand glide up and down. He'd been circumcised, had a tiny mole on the left side and was relatively straight. So this was the specialized bit of anatomy that would make her, by society's standards, a woman. What a silly conceit that her life would change after these inches of flesh entered her. She'd followed one the books her mother gave her, _The_ _Sex and Pleasure Book_ , to some satisfying conclusions—would this be better?

White semen was suddenly spurting out over her hand and knees, Garrett singing another string of "Fucks" and "Oh yeahs!"

It was surprisingly hot on her skin and more viscous than she imagined. She wasn't angry; she'd heard that ejaculating first would give the male partner longer staying time during intercourse which would increase the likelihood of her climaxing. She wiped her hand on the towel.

"How long until you're erect again?"

His eyes were closed, his whole body collapsed against the sofa. "What?"

"How quick until you're hard? What's your recharge cycle? We're running out of time."

"Uhm, soon."

"How long did it take the last time you had sex?"

"I never had sex before. You're the first girl I've seen naked in real life."

Glancing at the clock she saw they had less than fifteen minutes. "Can I do something to speed the process?"

"Yeah, rub my balls-fuck!" Bella grabbed his testicles as his phone, somewhere in his pants on the floor, rang. He shook his head. "Ignore that. It's just my mom."

Bella rubbed, his shaft slowly began to refill when the phone rang again, the same tone. Bella fondled his walnut shaped pudenda, Garrett returned to sucking her boobs and the phone rang again.

He let go of her breast. "Crap, I gotta answer this."

His mother needed her yoga DVDs from the car, he needed to bring them right away, Bella learned as the complaining woman could be heard from her son's phone, set on speaker as he gathered his tossed clothing and dressed. Bella followed him to the door, flipping the sign and flipping him off.

~BTV~

Lesson learned. No first timers.

She wasn't in a huge rush. She'd lived without sex for this long, she was sure another few months wouldn't kill her. She'd hoped there would be someone in one of her classes, but the blonde guy she was attracted to was frequently seen attached at the lips with a short dark girl. She wasn't about to become a home wrecker, her need wasn't that great.

Things came to a head Christmas afternoon.

She'd spent an uncomfortable second Christmas with Charlie installed as the new patriarch of the family. No more _Froot Loop_ s in pajamas (her mother allowed the artificial everything cereal as a once a year indulgence). Instead they put on dresses and went to a regular church with Charlie, a place with pews and stained glass and an altar instead of something by the water on folding chairs. Arriving home, Renee made pancakes with real bacon, and gifts were distributed. She had to admit, since Charlie's inclusion, her gifts were far more mainstream and abundant. Clothes from the mall, instead of some small Ecuadorian Co-op, expensive headphones in addition to the Chant CD. She thanked both of them, though she couldn't quite get her mouth around the name 'Dad' for the man who'd missed most of her life.

Bella was changing out of her dress when her mother knocked at her door.

"Baby, let me come in."

Unlocking the knob, Bella found her mother holding a wrapped rectangular box, about the size of a water bottle.

"Mom, this is too much, you guys, really, this isn't in the budget."

"Oh hush, we're doing fine." Renee sat on the bed. "We know you're growing up honey, and we recognize that you're on the cusp of adulthood."

Bella hated when Renee used the collective pronoun. In her mind, Charlie hadn't earned the right to be part of a 'we' when it came to her. She still never got a straight answer from her mother about why he was back in their lives when it seemed they'd spend the first fourteen years running from him.

As she began ripping the paper, her mother practically glowed watching her. Her present was blue, about six inches long.

"It's rechargeable," Her mother pointed to the box," So you don't have to worry about batteries!"

"You bought me a vibrator?"

"Baby, boys have it easier when it comes to masturbation. Girls could use a little assistance. This model has six speed settings. It's great for stress relief. I have one just like it but in purple."

Because that made it all better, knowing that her mother had used the cousin of her plastic penis in her own vagina. Just made her want to melt into the floor and disappear.

"It's silicone, so use it with water based lube, there's a bottle in the box. You know I have more organic lube at the shop when you run out." Renee got up and hugged Bella. "And it's very quiet, so we won't even know you're using it."

She banged her head against the door until the embarrassment started to fade. Even her mother noticed she wasn't getting any action. She felt the urge to once again feel a real, live phallus, attached to a real, live boy.

The downside of being years ahead of her peers at school: never getting invited to any parties. So here she was on New Year's Eve, trudging down the street to Mrs. Newton's house, two away from their own. It was a long standing block tradition, they were told when they moved in, that the adults would come by to toast in the New Year. Despite the Newton divorce, the party continued. Last year there had been an overabundance of Hawaiian style Swedish Meatballs, so Renee made sure to bring falafel as her contribution to the pot luck.

A few little kids ran around their parent's legs. The party was populated with people her parent's age and older, as well as their under-ten spawn. Everyone near her age bracket had found somewhere cooler to go. She was considering how best to sneak a drink when Mrs. Newton grabbed her by the arm.

"Bella, I'm so glad you came!" She smelled of alcohol and half a bottle of rose perfume. "Mikey is here. He's going to be spending the rest of the school year with his father in Florida, so I told him, I told him—"

Mrs. Newton began to cry, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. "My little boy is going to live with his Daddy, so I told him he should spend one more night with his mother. Go see him, please, he's in the den."

Their house had the exact same layout, so it wasn't hard to find where the put upon Mike was holed up. He was spread out on the floral patterned sofa, looking as bored as she felt.

"Hi Mike. Your mother said you're leaving for the east coast tomorrow."

He spun his legs to the floor, sitting up and patting the place next to him. His eyes seemed very interested in the spot where the hem of her blue dress met her thigh. "Bella, I must say you're looking very fetching tonight."

"Fetching? Who says that?"

"People with their own stash." He produced a bottle from the space between the cushion and the back of the sofa. "Jack Daniels. If you drink the same thing your parents drink, they can't smell it on you."

Sitting a few inches from Mike she considered his strengths. Clever enough with the whiskey. Good looking if you were looking for a sturdy, Midwestern type. Experienced; she'd seen him making out in the tiny park at the end of their street. And now he was leaving. Using someone that she knew might be a benefit. He'd be living in another state, but when he returned for visits, if he proved satisfactory, she might enjoy another tryst with him. Putting her hand out for the bottle she took a swig.

"Your girlfriend doesn't mind that you're leaving?"

"What, Jessica? She dropped me like a hot potato. All she cares about is having someone to take her to the Senior Prom. She told me she has to start now to find a date in time."

"Too bad." She decided to try to speak with him in language he'd understand. "So I guess you won't be popping her cherry on prom night."

"No worries, I hit that long ago."

Her assumption confirmed, she took another swig. "But who will you kiss at midnight?"

"Are you volunteering?"

"Could be." She licked her lips. "I'd like a sample of what I'd be getting first."

"The lady gets what the lady wants."

His lips were firm on her own. His experience showed as his tongue slipped into her mouth, hands pulling her onto his lap. His hands were creeping under the hem of her dress. She enjoyed the sensations she was feeling between her thighs, anticipating finally, finally completing the act.

"How's that for a sample?"

Two disheveled little boys ran into the room, stopped, and stared at them. "The lady said we could watch our show in here."

Mike raised his eyebrows but Bella answered them. "Okay boys, just close the door so you don't disturb the party."

At Mike's scowl she whispered in his ear, "They make the perfect cover for us to sneak over to my house."

A man of action he stood, still holding her hips, and headed for the door to the garage to make their escape.

Holding the bottle of Jack in one hand and Bella's hand in the other, Mike led the way, striding across the lawns between their houses. Bella awarded him points for eagerness. She hoped he matched it in stamina.

Walking through the living room, illuminated only by the street lamp shining through the front window, Mike tumbled onto the couch. "Here?" he asked.

Bella pulled him up. "My bedroom."

He took a swig and followed. "Excellent."

Locking the door she was still surprised to see Mike sprawled across her bed, even though she'd all but lured him there. She started to pull the dress over her head and Mike started a slow clap.

"Yeah baby, take it off!"

"What about you?"

"Yes ma'am." He instantly began stripping, shirt, shorts, and boxers. He'd been in flip flops, so in a moment she had a completely naked man in her room. A completely naked and completely ready man. His key element curved a little to the right, but it looked wider and longer than both Garrett's and her little plastic friend. Score one, Bella.

He came at her, leading with his lips, hands going to her back, unfastening her bra with a nimble movement. Experience sure made a difference.

His hands slid to her hips, taking her panties with them as his lips wrapped around the tips of her breasts. They really were like boy catnip. His fingers were suddenly between her legs, sawing back and forth. It wasn't unpleasant, but more like he was trying to sand something than what she'd read of foreplay. She repositioned his hand. "Try there."

He'd found her clitoris, and between his mouth on her nipples and his hand warming her up down below the process was proceeding quite well. She had no intention of handling his penis until she got what she brought him here for; he didn't look like he required any additional stimulation anyway.

"I have condoms in the nightstand."

"Fuck, why didn't I know you were living two houses away?"

She backed slowly to her bed, Mike, to his credit, never losing contact with the parts that made her female.

She lay sideways and he slid her hips to the edge of the mattress. She wasn't sure if this qualified as _the Indrani_ or _the Amazon_. She'd check the Kama Sutra later.

The sudden pounding on her bedroom door made Mike jump back, his penis flopping up and down. He looked at her, eyes wide, but was smart enough not to say anything.

"Bella, are you in there?"

Charlie. Of course Charlie. He was taking his job as father a little too seriously for her taste. "What is it?"

"Your mother is looking for you." She was sure this was a complete lie. Renee was nothing if not a free range parent.

"I'm tired." She tried to signal with her eyes to Mike, to stop getting dressed but he was determined. Seemed he'd had some experience with the angry father figure pounding on a bedroom door before.

"Open this door."

"Charlie—"

"Open this door."

Mike was slowly raising the bedroom window. She felt like following him but the aggravation would be too great. She wanted to lose her virginity, not create an issue with her mother's husband. "Just a minute." She grabbed her nightshirt and pulled it over her head. Mike had bolted; she threw his flip-flops out the window after him.

She opened the door. "What?"

Charlie looked past her, spotting the forgotten bottle of whiskey. He pointed his finger. "That's not going to fly around here young lady." He took the bottle, strode over to the bathroom across the hall and poured it down the sink. "Your mother says she's never had a New Year's Eve without you. Now get dressed and get your ass back to the party."

~BTV~

Next lesson- don't do it anywhere a parent might barge in or interrupt.

Something happened to change everything that spring. Charlie had found a job near their old hometown. Her mother had sworn she would never return to "that cold, rainy, backwards, backwater town," but now that Charlie had been offered a step up her mother was all about "returning to their hometown, the beautiful lush landscape, and the importance of putting down roots."

This changed her approach. Now she was the one who had a residential expiration date. She eyed the male students as she walked to class. To her list of requirements she'd added someone with their own apartment or single dorm room.

The curly blonde she'd noticed her first semester was almost all of that, except for the single part. She didn't want to cause someone to cheat, even if he was willing. She didn't necessarily think it the worst thing in the world; if someone was drawn to cheat they needed to reconsider their original relationship. She'd witnessed how ugly that could get with her mother's second husband, and she never wanted to be the catalyst.

She spotted curly blonde hair—could her mother be right, sending a thought into the universe could make something come about—nah, this was where he often ate lunch.

"Jasper, how's it going?" Small talk wasn't natural for her, but researching human behavior in the retail environment, she knew one, people liked to talk about themselves and two, people were more responsive if you called them by name.

"Okay." This was a lie. She could tell by his posture, shoulders drawn in, head hanging forward, that something was wrong.

"Are you sure?" She touched his arm, another way to promote trust.

"Not really." He looked down at his sandwich. "Marie broke up with me. She switched schools and she doesn't want to do the long distance thing anymore."

"Wow." She wasn't sure what to say. Now was not the time to jump in with her request for him to have intercourse with her, but she could lay the foundation. "Then she doesn't deserve you. You're a great guy."

"Thanks."

She might have left it at that, but her days were limited. Her mother had mentioned, almost as an aside, that she looked forward to seeing Esme and Edward again.

Edward, the boy-hero-guiding light of her existence. Her entire life she'd heard of him, in her mind he'd become almost mythical. At this rate she was going to meet him as an insipid little virgin. She was nearly six years younger than him, it would be hard enough to get him to take her seriously with the aura of innocence around her. She wanted him though they'd never met, she felt like she knew him. He was probably an expert in sex, like he was in everything else. She might as well put her hair in pig tails and wear a pink pinafore as show up on his doorstep never having had sex. Jasper was going to have to help her.

"Hey, Jasper, I know what would make you feel better. I'd like to cook you a homemade meal. I'm pretty good." She smiled, tilting her head and touching her hair. "Do you a have a kitchen in your apartment?"

The key to a man's heart, after boobs, was their stomach. Cooking for him in his apartment had several advantages; they were close to a bed, they didn't have to make a transition from a restaurant back to his place, and she was fairly sure she heard him say he lived alone, so no interruptions.

He nodded. "I do, but I have to warn you, I'm a vegetarian."

Excellent. Research proved that vegetarian men had more pleasant tasting semen, should she want to practice oral. This could work well. She still had a few weeks to go, she might get a few chances to hone her skills.

"No problem, my mom's a vegetarian too." Pointing out similarities, another way to foster confidence. This was going quite well. "How's Thursday?" Thursday would be good, she'd told her mother there was a showing of _On the Waterfront_ on campus. She'd seen the movie, she would have liked to experience it on a big screen but this other need had priority.

~BTV~

He'd showered. He'd showered and put on cologne, something sandalwood, both signs that he was taking this as more than friends having dinner.

She'd used the bathroom at the grocery store to change from the shorts she'd worn to campus into a pale green dress, the loose neckline giving a decent view of her bosom, the short length revealing her legs. She checked her tote bag for her supplies, food and condoms, before she'd knocked on his door.

"You look nice."

She walked in under the arm he had on the doorframe. He was tall, not a requirement, but a plus. "Kitchen?"

He led her to a galley kitchen, small but clean. She didn't plan on wasting all her time cooking, so the prep would be quick, then in the oven. Her recipe for quinoa stuffed peppers was good but not too filling. No one was going into a food coma on her watch.

Jasper leaned against the counter as she sautéed the precut onions. "Do you want a beer?"

"Sure." She didn't really like beer, the time or two she'd had a sip, but it was another point of similarity. She could always tip some into the sink when he wasn't watching.

They clinked bottles.

"What'cha making? Smells great."

She reached into the grocery bag for the red vegetables. "Stuffed peppers."

"Maria loved stuffed peppers."

Point one Maria, Bella zero.

Reminding a man of his ex was not a good strategy. His ex may have enjoyed this dish, but she was a few thousand miles away. Bella planned on enjoying Maria's man, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I bet mine are the best you ever had." Take that double entendre, and think what you will. He smiled slowly. Point Bella.

He put his bottle in the recycling bin and opened another. "You want?"

"Still working on this one." It was a cheap shot, but she purposely ran her tongue along the opening of the bottle before wrapping her lips around the glass and drinking. Jasper gulped. Mission accomplished.

"These have to go in the oven for twenty minutes. We could sit and talk or something."

"Yeah." He trailed after her, sitting on top of a knock-off Navaho blanket thrown over the couch.

He wasn't close enough. She slipped off her sandals and curled her legs up on the cushion, allowing her to lean against his arm. "This is nice."

"It is." He looked down on her, the lamp giving his hair a backlit effect, almost like a halo. She could see him focusing on her lips, but he looked away, taking another drink. Wetting his lips he spoke softly. "I don't know how to do this anymore, I was with her for so long. Bella, can I kiss you?"

Finally. She answered with her lips against his, putting her practice with Mike to good use. He responded, his hand going to her rear, pulling her up against him. He was fingering her thong through the thin fabric of her dress. He was an ass man; she could adapt. She wiggled against his hand and he moved it under her dress, rubbing her bare cheeks.

"Is this okay?"

She moved over him so she was straddling his lap. "What do you think?"

His shorts didn't hide his growing interest. He pulled, she pushed, and she found herself riding a substantial protrusion. Rocking back and forth was extremely pleasant, he applied more pressure to her lower back which made it better still when the buzzer on the oven went off.

"Hold that thought." She climbed off him, letting her hips sway for his benefit as she walked into the kitchen. She looked through the drawers for pot holders, finding red ones shaped like chili peppers.

Jasper opened another beer and took down two plates. He spotted the pot holders. "Marie brought those from Mexico."

The woman could have had the decency to take all her stuff so the poor guy wouldn't be hit with a reminder around every corner. Or maybe she did it on purpose, to foil the next girl. Point Maria.

Dinner done, the few dishes washed, Jasper on his sixth beer; Bella was ready to get down to business. "You never showed me your bedroom."

"I didn't, did I? This way." He was walking fine, she just hoped his alcoholic consumption wouldn't affect his performance.

It didn't really matter what the bedroom looked like, the bed was made and the sheets looked clean. She turned her back to him, pulling her dress up until her thong was fully revealed. "I thought you might want a better look."

His hands made immediate contact, dragging her by the buttocks so she was facing him, his hands kneading her cheeks. "Sugar, I think you're just what I need."

He rolled her dress up from the bottom, lifting it up over her head. The blue sheer bra and thong, another gift from her mother, seemed to be to Jasper's liking. He let out a low whistle. "You sure are pretty."

His shirt was off, his shorts were down and he was backing her up to the bed. He climbed over her, still wearing his boxers.

"You might want to take those off."

"Now you're talkin'." He skinned them off, revealing his promise from before and a tattoo on his hip, some kind of Aztec image.

She traced the image with her finger. "This is beautiful, is that Quetzalcoatl?" She recalled reading about the 'feathered serpent', an Aztec god.

He looked down, and seemed to deflate, figuratively and literally. His penis started to droop.

"Maria, Maria and I got matching tattoos together." As he spoke, his pulled away from her so she was left on his bed in her specially chosen lingerie, about to be tossed over for a memory.

"I can't do this, I'm sorry." His voice was thick, as if her were fighting back tears. She felt like crying.

She had no idea shrinkage could be so rapid as his non-feathered snake coiled into half its former self. After all her work she wasn't about to give up. She reached for him. "You deserve to be happy Jasper. Let me help you feel good."

He shifted back. "I'm sorry Bella. You're beautiful, but this just proves that I've made the wrong decision. I have to go after her, she's the love of my life."

Fantastic. She didn't want his love, just a little piece of him, by her guess seven inches. She dressed, packed up her things and left. Doomed to virginity.

~BTV~

"You wanted to lose your virginity for me? That doesn't make sense."

Her boyfriend was beautiful and brilliant, but he didn't understand women. "I didn't want to look like a kid to you. At one point society looked upon virgins as an ideal, now they're a punchline." She climbed on top of him, her hands sliding up his chest to his scalp. "Your skin feels like a cat's tongue here."

He shook his head, making her laugh. "I could shave again, or do you want it to grow out?"

"It's been two weeks, your fifteen minutes of fame must be over by now. No more shaving." Although shaving his head, the shave cream falling on her naked skin as he teased her had led to some excellent encounters in the bathroom, she missed his hair. "Let it grow."

He started to sing to the tune of the song _Let it go_. "Let it grow, let it grow…"

"Stop singing." She reached behind her and grabbed hold of his cock. "This is what I want to see grow."

"Now I can understand your insatiable need for me. Making up for all those almosts." He looked into her eyes, smiling. "I know it's not politically correct, and Renee would be horrified, but some primitive male part of me is glad I got to be the first one to plant my pole in you."

"Your pole? Right now it feels more like a giant slug."

"Keep rubbing it little girl and I'll show you my magic wand."

"Your magic wand. More like an ironing brand, looking to mark your property."

"So you're saying I'm like an iron rod. I can go with that." He closed his eyes as she rolled his cock in her hand. A few more minutes and he'd be ready to go again.

Over the last weeks they'd had sex, made love, and fucked like animals all over the townhouse, deadbolt solidly in place. It was a part of her she'd never known, where she didn't overanalyze, she just felt and reacted. It was freeing in a way she never imagined. She found a comfort with him she'd never expected. Just touching him was soothing, like she'd finally found a missing part of herself. But doing more than touching, that was sublime.

"Ready yet old man?"

"Who you calling old?" She enjoyed the ride as he flipped her onto her back, and began blowing raspberry noises on her belly. This made her laugh, which he knew, as he kissed her with a new passion. Laughing, Bella felt him at her entrance and held her breath for the now familiar sensation of him sliding home. She compared him to all those almosts and realized, she hadn't missed a thing.

.

* * *

 **A/N: A guest reviewer was upset that Bella was a virgin in this story. She felt that Bella and Edward were not sexual equals because of that and said she wouldn't have read the story in the first place if she'd known. I was kind of shocked, because I think sexual equality is not about comparing your number with someone else's. Bella is far from innocent, and still being a virgin is not what she's all about. Little did guest reviewer know, but this extensive backstory, which I wasn't going to post, was lurking in my brain all along. She won't be reading this because she was flouncing, 49,000 words in, but the rest of you who weren't shocked by the last chapter get to enjoy.**

 **Of course, there are those who will read this and declare Bella a slut for not wanting to wait for her Prince Charming, but I've learned you can't make everyone happy, so sorry in advance.**

 **Un-betad because I pounded this out in the last 24 hours. Next chapter next week.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15

* * *

"I don't know if I can do this." Bella stared at the crying baby on the changing table.

Edward looked over her shoulder. "Change a diaper? You've done it before."

He was not a fan of giving up one of the few weekends they had off together, but Bella's parents cashed in their anniversary present weekend at a bed and breakfast, babysitting included, choosing this weekend. He had secretly hoped he'd be on duty and that Bella would be watching little Bree alone. Not that he minded the baby, but they had so little time together. An entire weekend dedicated to the needs of the little tyrant was not in his plans.

Tyrant sounded rather negative, but how else to describe a being who demanded what she wanted, when she wanted it, regardless of what those around her wanted to do? Her high pitched wail made his blood pressure rise twenty points. They'd read the article by the opera singer who discovered a commonality between baby's cries and had determined a distinct sound for hunger, fatigue, and discomfort. But what to do when said infant was vocalizing them all in a row? His mother and Renee seemed to have endless patience for the menial tasks involved in baby craft. They weren't just good at it, they loved it! He couldn't say the same. He was fine with a sick or injured child, but the maintenance tasks seemed so dreary.

He knew what Bella was saying, it wasn't about diapering a child. Should the two of them have children? The genetic reasons were obvious, although not guaranteed. Geniuses do not always beget more geniuses. If they had a baby, a child of normal intelligence, would they have the patience to explain things at their level? One of the reasons he and Bella worked so well together was their ability to communicate so rapidly. A part of a sentence and he knew what tangent his girlfriend was exploring, the mention of an article, with their excellent recall they remembered every detail, curtailing tiresome reiteration which frustrated those around them who had no way of keeping up with the conversation. Could they expand their insular bubble to include another member, or two, or three? What if one was a genius and one was not?

He shook his head, tying the putrid smelling bundle in the plastic bag he had at the ready, and delivered it directly to the garbage can out the back door. He was forced to smell many foul things in the ER; he wouldn't tolerate the same in their home.

Bella had the baby over her shoulder while she washed her hands. These small humans were germ factories. He washed his hands and got the bottle. Inserting the thermometer he read out loud, "97.2 degrees. Does that match her body temperature? Should I warm it further?"

"Give me that." Bella swiped the bottle out of his hand, settling in the corner of the sofa. "The body temperature suggestion is merely a landmark. Babies can drink it room temperature which would be substantially colder, or somewhat warmer. It depends on their preference, not on a particular standard."

He'd never focused on pediatrics, it just wasn't an interest of his. "That's absurd. There should be a measurable optimal temperature. You mean one day they might like a cold one and another day a hot toddy? Determined by these illogical creatures? Sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"That's not the problem. I'm sure through observation, trial, and error, we could determine optimal physical conditions for raising an infant." Bella kissed the top of her sister's head, who had sighed in relief at the first suck of the bottle, and was now contently feeding, no sign of the noxious, deafening changeling from earlier. "Safe, dry, fed, and warm, I can do that. But what if I'm working on a research project and forget to pick it up? What if I have a flash of inspiration and ignore what it's trying to tell me?"

He didn't know how to answer since he had the same doubts.

"Sometimes when I'm in the middle of research I resent having to go use the bathroom. I stand there crossing my legs while I try to get one more idea down. What would I do if a child interrupted me?"

"We could hire a nanny."

"Then why have a child if we're going to hire out its care?"

"I—I don't know." One of the few times he'd said the phrase in his memory, but it was completely true. He'd heard the line, 'no one is ever ready for a baby,' but perhaps in their case it would always be true. Bella was his intellectual equal, he couldn't expect her to give up her work if he wouldn't want to do the same. Paying a stranger to care for a child seemed fraught with every kind of danger. The risks surely outweighed the benefits. And the time involved; look at the lengths Bella's parents had to go through to have a weekend alone. And the worry, Renee had texted every half hour until Bella threatened to turn off her phone. Who had the emotional energy for that?

"Our mothers could watch it. I doubt my mother is planning to have another baby, so by the time I finish my residency Bree will be in school."

"My mother, sure. But your mother?"

"What about my mother?"

"Bella, do I need to spell it out?" Couldn't she see how much more his mother had invested into his rearing while Renee practically used Bella as an indentured servant?

"It's much easier to run your kid all over for tournaments and be the president of the PTA when someone else is paying the bills."

The tone. He'd only heard it once before. He was in trouble. Attacking someone's mother wasn't ever a good idea, but he and Bella were able to remove the emotional factor from so many decisions, he just assumed she'd agree that Renee was the inferior parenting model. And, he might add, as far as her mother planning to have another baby? Her parents could be making one right now for all he knew. What he'd overheard, from one of those whisper-giggle conversations Renee and his mother got into, Bree wasn't planned, 'they weren't trying but they weren't not trying.' What kind of reasoning was that?

"And when you raise your child to believe he's the center of the universe, that's fine?"

Yes his mother had at times been overinvolved and overinvested in his childhood, but that was understandable. He could understand where his mother even deserved that criticism—wait! She wasn't just commenting on his mother. "You think that I think I'm the center of the universe?"

"Not anymore. But admit it, when we met you were barely tolerable."

"I saw you as a threat."

"Yes, a threat to your status as the center of the universe."

He didn't see how he could win this. "I'm sure arguing isn't good for the baby."

"She's asleep."

"Why are we arguing about the upbringing of a child that doesn't exist, who may never exist?"

Bella got up and rushed out of the room and up the stairs.

It didn't seem that Bree was in any distress, she was still sleeping. If Bella wasn't feeling well, wouldn't she have said something? Leaving the only logical conclusion. He was in more trouble.

He didn't rush into the guest room where Bella was handling the delicate procedure of transferring Bree to the crib. He didn't blame the child, who would want to leave warm arms for a cold bed? He waited until the deed was done, the baby monitor turned on, and Bella backed out of the room, shutting the door. He saw a tear track on her cheek before she wiped it away and crossed her arms.

"Hey." He pulled her into his chest, although with her arms in front of her body it was somewhat awkward. "You want a baby."

She nodded. "It doesn't make sense. I'd be a terrible mother."

"You would be a perfectly adequate mother."

She barked out half a laugh. "That's a ringing endorsement."

"You'd do the best that you could, which would be very good indeed."

"But doing the best that I could takes time and devotion. I want to do my work, but for some reason I still want a baby. Isn't that just selfish? Just because I want one doesn't mean I should have one."

"We should have one."

"Now you're saying we should have a baby to placate me."

"Not at all. I'm saying it wouldn't be you having the baby, it would be our baby, our responsibility. I wouldn't let you screw this kid up on your own."

"That's the least convincing argument for parenthood I've ever heard."

"I can make a better one. We're both extremely intelligent, physically well-formed. I dare say we should reproduce. Our genes combined would make excellent offspring. We practically owe it to the world."

"You're right. We have superior genes. We should implant surrogates with our embryos, after all I wouldn't be able to gestate enough super children for world domination."

"That's the spirit." Nuzzling into her hair he relaxed as she unfolded her arms and hugged him back. "We don't have to decide tonight."

She sighed into his chest. "But wanting a baby is illogical."

"We're not Vulcans. It's okay to be illogical once in a while."

"But a baby means illogical decisions for the rest of our lives."

Edward had had a clear view of his future, right through becoming a doctor and residency. After that it was a bit of a haze, a mirage that had included a spouse and children almost as accessories. He didn't imagine a strapping boy or clever girl, just that he'd be a father like his father before him, and he never bothered with the details. Since Bella came into his life the spouse was clearly her, but he had no overwhelming desire to have children in the concrete sense. He never thought about the how and when of offspring until now.

He tilted his head. "Couldn't we just borrow Bree from time to time?"

"It's not the same. And you know how I hate unanswered questions…"

Indeed, his girlfriend did not like having a stone unturned, a tee uncrossed. And now that the idea had crept into his head, he began to wonder too, what their baby might be.

The idea of impregnating Bella, the thought their zygote developing inside her womb excited him on a primordial level. So much for his claims of being a feminist. "I think I want one. I do."

"One day. In a few years."

"Until then," he pressed his front against her. "We should practice."

A cry came from the guest room.

"There's your chance to practice."

"But you're better with her."

Bella raised her left eyebrow. He couldn't argue with the brow.

He approached the crib slowly, hoping she'd just drop off to sleep. Should they let her cry herself back to sleep? Knowing Renee she probably slept with the baby in bed, so letting her cry it out would be an all-night disaster. The sound wasn't abating as he approached the pink-red creature. It sounded like "eh-eh-eh", and she was pulling her legs up. According to Dunstan's theory of infant sound reflexes, never proven with adequate scientific vigor but the darling of many television programs, the "Eh" meant she needed to be burped.

Bella was in the doorway, so he whispered, "Did you burp her?"

She shook her head so he scooped Bree up to his shoulder, gave three sound thumps and was rewarded with a belch that would impress a frat boy. He cradled the child back into the crook of his arms, where she gazed at him with a look of bliss. "She's smiling at me."

"It's probably more gas."

"No, this is a smile, take a look." He turned so Bella could see.

"I think you're right. I think this is her first smile!"

Bree morphed from smiling to the most delicate of yawns, slowly blinking her fairy eyes while tiny lips blew invisible kisses, and with a whisper of a sigh, fell asleep. They watched the entire process, enthralled.

He said it first, but he could read the same longing in her eyes. "We have to have one of these."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Wait a minute…there's no way you forgot to burp Bree. You planned this!" He turned to Bella.

There was no denial in her eyes. "Shhhh…she's sleeping…put her down."

He felt as though he was carrying spun glass. He lowered Bree as smoothly as possible, setting her on her back and tucking the light blanket around her body. He edged out to the hall, slowly. Bella had disappeared.

He found her sitting cross-legged on their bed. She held her hand up. "Let me explain."

Standing with his hands on his hips he waited.

"You haven't held her since the night she was born, and then only because Renee forced the issue."

This was true. It wasn't that he intentionally—okay, he did intentionally avoid picking her up. What was the point? The babies he encountered in the emergency department were either screaming, puking or bleeding. He knew what to do with those kind of babies. But a healthy infant with an entire coterie of adults at their beck and call…why did he need to pick her up?

"I wanted to see an honest reaction from you, without all the Grandma Eyes on you."

"Who has Grandma Eyes?"

"Your mother! She looks at the baby, she looks at you. She hugs the baby, she looks at me. Then she starts this little Mona Lisa grin as if I don't know what she's thinking."

"You think so?"

"You're such a man."

"I thought you had a particular fondness for my man-ness."

"For the most part."

"You lie." He climbed onto the bed, snuggling up to her. He rubbed against her hip, already halfway to liftoff.

"Okay, I love your manliness." She pushed back against him.

They'd made the most of Bree's afternoon nap, but with a little persuasion he'd be ready for another round. Something still bothered him. "I can't believe you intentionally let Bree cry."

"It was in the name of science."

"You let a _baby_ cry intentionally. Your little sister."

"For a total of 90 seconds."

"Still too long."

"So if we were, say, in the middle of a reverse cowgirl and the baby started crying and you were 90 seconds from finishing I should just hop off and send you to take care of it?"

"Me? I'd be naked with my thing hanging out in front of the baby. That's wrong."

"So taking a minute or so to put on a robe or something would be worth it?"

He nodded. In the scheme of things he was sure Bree was unharmed and Bella had made her point. "Okay, it was worth it."

"Now we know we share the unfathomable desire to have a little person of our own at some point in our existence. And that your mother wishes it was tomorrow, but she'll probably be waiting a few years."

She switched off the bedside lamp. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Me too." Laying in the dark, his head next to hers on the pillow, a beam of moonlight fell on his bookshelf, illuminating the model of the USS Enterprise he'd completed years ago. "And we'll name it Tiberious."

She sat up and flicked the light on. "Tiberious? As in James T. Kirk Tiberious?"

"Is there another?"

"We're not naming our child after a misogynistic space cowboy. I was thinking Edison or Jonas for Jonas Salk for a boy. Rachel for Rachel Carson or Marie for Madame Curie for a girl. Or Emilie after Emilie Du Chatelet, the astronomer."

"But you haven't been thinking about this at all."

"Shut up and go to sleep. Our practice child could be awake any minute."

"And Kirk isn't a misogynist. He can't help it if the ladies love him. It's more of a burden."

"I'm gonna give you a burden." She started tickling his armpits, his most susceptible spot.

He curled up trying to protect himself while snorting with laughter until she relented, kissing the back of his neck. She hugged him from behind, pulling the comforter over the two of them and he realized, this was what he'd been searching for without knowing the object of his quest. This was happiness.

.

.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to **Cousin Beta** for the swift read!

The thing with having your sister-in-law reading, is that when you're on the phone with her and she suddenly complains, "Hey, it's Wednesday and you didn't post yet. Get off the phone and get to work." Thanks Sis.

This chapter was inspired by **archy12** , who asked me if they would ever have children. Above is your answer. I hope you're all following her story, ' **After the Wedding'** , and **archy** , I could ask the same question!

And thanks to all the reviewers out there who pushed the story over a thousand reviews last chapter! I am still reading those, but decided I needed to get back to writing the story first. Thanks for all the love, and really, I wasn't angry with the guest reviewer who inspired the last chapter, just confused that what I thought was a minor point was a story changer for her.

Pretty sure the next chapter is the last. I know, I'll miss them too


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 16

* * *

He turned his pillow, looking for a better spot, but he couldn't get comfortable. The blinds were drawn, music on low, the bedroom door cracked just enough so he could hear when Bella came home, but he always found it hard to sleep in the afternoon when he was working nights. He'd be ruing the lack of shuteye around 3 AM when his body would punish him for not getting enough rest. In the past he'd tried sleeping pills but they'd left him groggy for most of his shift. He was desperate enough to try the lavender sleep mask Renee brought this morning, when she and his mother stopped over to drop off their bags before they went to see the first movie of the film festival.

He slid on the mask, enjoying the complete darkness. It did smell nice and the fabric was smooth against his face. He adjusted the ties at the back of his head and tried to relax. Something, rather, someone was missing. He hadn't felt the lack before, but now that he'd become used to having her sleep with him the sheets were lonely. He felt for the pillow from her side of the bed and wrapped his arm around it. Not the same, but there was a hint of her scent, the coconut and ginger hair products she used were soothing. He loathed to admit that his father had been right. He remembered scoffing at the lecture, about sex being better when you loved the other person, and that you'll know the right person when you miss their physical presence. Even if he and Bella were working on separate projects, knowing she was in the same house was soothing. And while she often pulled the comforter off him in the middle of the night, and more than once kicked him in the shin, he craved sleeping next to her. After all his years of devotion to his intellectual pursuits he was an animal after all, happiest when his mate was with him.

Feminine laughter woke him, coming from downstairs. Bella rarely brought people home; lifting the edge of the sleep mask he checked the clock, she wasn't due for another half hour.

"Oh my God, if he was that bad in bed, why the hell did you marry him?"

It was his mother, snorting and laughing, and, he guessed, Renee guffawing back, sounding like a sorority party in the middle of the afternoon.

"His wallet." There was silence and he tried not to listen. This wasn't his business, the women most likely thought they were alone.

Renee was quieter now. "He was a nice man, really kind. He'd never been married, no kids. But he was crazy about Bella. I wanted the security for her. I tried for almost a year, but I couldn't fake it for the rest of my life."

"I know. The first guy I slept with was a dud in bed. He never did get me off."

This was information he never wanted to know about his mother, or Renee for that matter. Should he drop something to make them aware of his presence?

"My second husband was a beast in bed. That man could go all day."

"So why aren't you still with him?"

"Because he would go all day. Even if I wasn't around, it was the waitress from the diner or his best friend's wife."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. He's lucky I don't look good in stripes or I would have cut off his cheating wiener. Then Charlie kept showing up."

"And how was he? Better with age?"

He clamped Bella's pillow over his ears. He couldn't believe his mother had asked the question, and he'd never be able to un-hear the answer, though he supposed Bree's existence told him all he needed to know about Renee and Charlie's marital relations. Their muffled laughter went on for some minutes, until he heard his beloved, hissing at the older women.

"What are you doing here making so much noise? Edward is sleeping!"

A few minutes later the bedroom door shut quietly and he felt the bed dip. It had become their habit to nap together for a few minutes before they ate dinner if he had to do a late shift.

"Sorry the crazy ladies disturbed you." She pulled the pillow off his head. "I know you're awake."

"No, I dreamt the last half hour." As he spread out his arm she put her head on his chest. "You're way better than a pillow."

"Thanks, there's an accomplishment."

Her breathing slowed as she curled into him, her arm across his waist, his arms wrapped around her back. Usually he'd doze off with her until his alarm, but the short conversation between their mothers bothered him.

Security. For most of her life Bella had been anything but secure. What did he have to offer her? Everything he had was from his parent's largess. How could he show Bella that she'd be safe with him? Eventually he'd make money, but right now his paycheck wouldn't cover his expenses. How was he going to buy an engagement ring when the time came? Ask his daddy for money like a six-year-old?

Money was bad enough, but what about sex? Would she be content just being with him? Would she want to find someone else so she would have a frame of reference? He vehemently did not want her to be with anyone else, but what if she wasn't ready to settle down? How could he prove that he was enough for her?

Instead of sleeping his brain churned with ideas until the alarm sounded.

~T~

Staring at the screen of his laptop, Edward was relieved when his friend walked in. "Pete, can you help me with this? I can't figure it out."

"Wow, let me tweet that, 'The world is ending peeps, Edward Cullen can't figure something out!'"

Edward ignored the jibe. "I need this to work. It seems they're not really looking for the most qualified contestants; they want the most amusing."

"Contestants?"

"I need to make some money, quickly. I thought a game show—"

"I think Jeopardy wants the smartest people, you're a shoo-in."

"I don't have time to spend a few weeks on Jeopardy." He pointed to the screen. "This one, answer fourteen questions get a million dollars in one sitting, that's what I need. But the first question, about quirks, rituals, superstitions—I don't have anything to put down."

"Cullen, your favorite patient needs you." The late shift nurses did not seem as subject to his charms and were happy to chase him down.

"Can't you handle it?" He knew exactly who they were talking about, the wife of a hospital trustee. He'd been in to see her six times in the last two hours.

"She only wants to talk to 'the dreamy doctor' with the red hair."

"I'll be right there."

"Now, before she calls her husband again."

As he stood Peter took the laptop from him. "I'll take care of this."

"You have to be honest."

"I'm not going to lie, maybe just embellish."

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Do you want to get on this show or not?"

"Fine." He left, leery of what Peter was putting down but recognizing Pete had a better grasp of popular culture than he did.

~T~

Yawning, Edward reached for the keys in his pocket.

"Cullen, wait up!"

Looking over his shoulder he saw Peter jogging down the sidewalk, a paper grocery bag under his arm. "You want a ride?"

"Nah, Charlotte's picking me up. I wanted to give you these." He handed the bag to Edward. It looked to be a collection of magazines.

"Is this your recycling?"

"No, your study materials."

Edward wasn't sure if he was over tired or if Peter was making a joke. "I don't get it."

"Okay, what was the name of the third president's vice president's wife?"

"First or second wife?"

"See, all that presidential trivia, state capitals, geography, periodic table, that stuff you know. Pop culture questions are gonna get you." A car pulled up to the curb, the woman behind the wheel waving at the two of them. Peter put his hand on the door. "I'm not kidding, read them."

~T~

He emptied the bag of magazines, fanning the lot out across the coffee table.

He picked up the first one, wondering who had done such an obviously fake breast augmentation to the woman on the cover. Turning the pages, he found the layout confusing- mostly little boxes with a photo and a blurb, or a full page photograph with a paragraph across the bottom, no proper articles. And why were there so many pictures? Was this magazine meant for adults with reading comprehension issues? And who were these Kardashian people?

~T~

"Wakey, wakey."

He pushed himself to a seated position, rubbing his eyes.

Bella was holding one of the magazines. "What's this?"

"Study materials?"

"You're studying 'People' and 'Us' magazine?"

"Ummm…" He coughed, buying time. "Keeping up with popular culture. It's supposed to help with my bedside manner."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Really. It helps. I never knew there were so many Kardashians." He pushed the magazines back into a pile.

"You never cared either."

"I know, but I'm trying to relate to my patients."

"Okay." She kissed him on the head, but her tone seemed off. "Do you want me to heat up some of the baked ziti your mother brought?"

He nodded. She turned towards the kitchen but spoke over her shoulder. "Your mom said to remind you about the Forks First Aid Squad fundraiser next week."

Of course his mother was spearheading another charity function. Their little town couldn't afford to replace the first aid squad's ambulance; with the growth of the community they could really use three. He'd agreed to something last time they spoke; he was probably asleep at the time. Being a Resident at the hospital meant he was finally earning some money, but he was living on less sleep than ever. With Bella in medical school they'd cut back on extra-curricular activities so they could still be together a few times a week. He didn't mind helping his mother but he hated giving up any of their precious free time. Stacking the magazines, he considered his next move. Should he divulge his game show plan or continue lying to her until he got on the show? Was it really a lie, or was it just a diversion tactic as one might employ when planning a surprise party? He remembered a conversation with his father regarding his mother's surprise thirtieth birthday party.

"I'm not to tell her anything about the party."

"Correct."

"Won't she think we're not celebrating her birthday? Won't that make her sad?" He'd been working on his empathy, but this concept defied everything he'd learned about considering other people's feelings.

"She might be a little sad, but then when she's surprised she'll be happy."

"So we're going to make her sad so she'll be happy?"

"People like surprise parties, really."

"If you say so. I think it's rather manipulative. Don't ever give me a surprise party, it all seems pointless." His mother had enjoyed the party, but he remembered the morning of her birthday when she moped around, checking the phone line, mentioning that it was odd that none of her friends had called to wish her a happy birthday. His father's plan, to say he got called into work, but she should take Edward to the restaurant instead, seemed a pathetic ruse, even to his seven-year-old self. It worked, but he was sure she seemed a bit wobbly lipped on the ride to the venue.

He heard the microwave beep. What if he never got on the show? He'd have explained his odd reasoning to no use. Bella already had enough material to tease him. Better to keep it to himself for now.

~T~

Although he hoped and planned for it, when a producer called from the show, he was momentarily suspicious.

"This is Kasey Kohl from 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire.' Am I speaking with Edward Cullen?"

"Yes." He wasn't sure if Peter had put Charlotte up to the call. The application had only been sent in last week. In his reading of the articles and blog posts of contestants, they were usually called some weeks or months after applying.

"Is this the same Edward Cullen who subdued the Seattle hospital bomber?"

So that was the angle Peter used. He thought it was a cheap shot, using a ridiculous moment of celebrity to his own advantage, but if he learned nothing else from his week reading 'Us', 'In Touch', and 'People' magazine, the world was fascinated with celebrity, even those who only seemed to be famous for being famous. In his case would it be so bad to exploit the appetite for this nonsense if it would secure Bella and his future?

"Yes, it is." Just to put a little more spit shine on his image he added. "That's _Dr_. Edward Cullen now."

"Fantastic! I just have a few questions."

He wondered what other nonsense TV people could come up with.

"It says here that if you win the million dollars you're going to propose to your girlfriend, pay for the wedding and buy a house."

"Correct."

"That's really nice, but is there any way we can jazz it up? I mean most of the contestants with girlfriends say the same thing. It doesn't play well with America if you need a million dollars to propose."

He spoke without thinking, it came to him that fast. "I plan on buying a replacement ambulance for the first aid squad in our home town."

"Oh, that's super, works right in. We have an opening for one of our themed shows, 'American Heroes'. It's taping next week; can you be in Stamford, Connecticut next Tuesday?"

~T~

The question he couldn't answer: who would be his 'plus one'? The show allowed you to bring one person to be a 'life-line' to sit in the audience in case you needed help with a question. Peter was extremely intelligent, more up on pop-culture and would keep his secret until the show aired. By then he'd have his money and Bella's ring in hand, ready to plead his case.

On the other hand, Bella was the smartest person he'd ever met. Between his mind and hers it was practically a guaranteed win. In surgery you try to control every element possible to give your procedure the highest chance of success. You get the nurse who works best with you, the most experienced anesthesiologist, the most trustworthy equipment possible. Decision made, he'd take Bella. Even better, though he'd have her for a lifeline when it was time to answer the million-dollar question, he'd ask her to marry him. It would be perfect.

~T~

He'd practically had to promise their first born child in order to get last minute coverage for two, possible three days away from the hospital. Bella had rolled her eyes, but when he pointed out they could win enough money to pay for new ambulances and possibly new equipment for the police department she conceded. She may have taken to it too enthusiastically.

Stowing her carry on bag in the overhead comportment before he had the chance to do it she said, "Remember Ogo Ogas." She settled into her seat, fishing out her tablet loaded with more random sports facts, another weak area. They'd already decided, based on the findings of other contestants, that for pop culture and sports questions he would defer to the audience lifeline if he was in doubt.

Of course he remembered Ogo Ogas, the Cognitive Neuroscientist who played on Millionaire using his research to help him win $500,000. Ogas used several scientifically proven methods to access your memory, but Ogas didn't have his secret weapon: Bella Swan.

He stowed his bag and sat in the roomy seats provided courtesy of his father. He'd been told they were purchased with travel miles, which may or may not have been true but made him feel a little better about accepting yet another gift from his parents.

"And don't be nervous."

He wasn't nervous about the game; he was nervous about asking Bella to marry him. It was something they'd discussed in general terms as a matter of course that they would be together in the future. He was going to ask her officially, on a game show, with only the promise of a ring. He knew she wouldn't care about a ring, but he wanted the world to know how much he valued this woman, the one looking at him now with yet another trivia website open so he could memorize another set of useless-after-the-game facts. Super Bowl minutia and World Series rosters, here we go.

~T~

The other contestants were a veteran who'd lost a leg to a road side bomb, a firefighter who'd rescued three children- at the same time- moments before their apartment building collapsed, and an EMT who'd jumped into a freezing cold river to save the occupants of a car that slid off the road. Edward was beginning to feel like a fraud.

"They're real heroes."

Bella looked at him, with her no-nonsense face. "Last week they had former child stars, the week before; teen best friends. It's not your fault they put you in this category."

"So you agree, I'm not a real hero."

"This is a game show Edward, not real life. You've saved dozens of people, but no one got that on video. Forget whether you fit the category, just win the money."

"I feel like they're more deserving."

"Deserving doesn't win the game. They'll get their turn to play and how you do does nothing to reduce their chances of winning."

A production assistant called to the group, "Plus ones to the audience please."

"It's not like you're playing for some selfish reason." Bella gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Forks deserves new ambulances. Remember that."

~T~

The vet returned, happy to have walked away with $100,000. The firefighter was up next. The show was playing in the waiting room but Edward saw no point in watching. They wouldn't ask the questions again and all the disconnected facts would just jam his thought process. The firefighter returned, but Edward wasn't paying attention to his winnings. The EMT was walking on set and he had to stand in the on-call position.

The production assistant was communicating with unseen people though his headphones, so Edward wasn't sure if he was addressing him when he spoke. "Make it a good show. Smile, laugh it up, okay?"

Laugh it up? Edward felt vaguely nauseous. Bleeding patients, hanging limbs, smashed digits he could handle. Walking out to possibly look a fool on a national stage? He just needed a few minutes, a little meditation to soothe his nerves—

"You're up." The PA gave him a light push.

The EMT walked past him, looking grim.

The annoying music swelled as he walked onto the set. He smiled, as he'd been coached, waving with his left hand, reaching to shake the outstretched hand of the host, some former athlete with a strong grip named Tyler.

"Are you ready to play _Who wants to be a Millionaire?_ "

The audience cheered and the first question was up. Before Tyler was finished, Edward answered. "C, final answer."

Another ridiculously easy question popped up. He had to force himself to wait until the host finished speaking to answer, "B, final answer."

Third question he could have answered when he was three, "D, Wall Street Journal, final answer."

Tyler gave him the eye. Behind him, out of camera range a woman dressed in black was making strange motions with her fingers, as if she was trying to make cat's cradles, but she had no string. Did she want him to stretch it out?

The fourth question was another absurdly easy one, thanks to his study of People magazine. "C. North and Saint. Final answer."

Fifth, What year was Nikola Tesla born? Too simple, "1856."

The woman in black seemed more aggravated, making bigger motions with her arms.

Sixth question he decided to use a tactic he'd seen other contestants employ. He read each answer out loud; "A. The Rolling Stones, B. The Who, C. The Beatles, D. The Clash. Final Answer, D. The Clash."

"Hey Doc, you're really ripping through those questions." Tyler sounded friendly but the look in his eyes wasn't. "Guess you have to make a lot of quick decisions in the emergency room."

"That's true." Edward nodded. He wanted to just answer the questions and be done with the game, not prattle on.

"I'm guessing your favorite book growing up was ' _Rapunzel'_ , right?"

What was he talking about? His favorite book growing up was _Netter's Atlas of Human Anatomy_ although as he grew older he preferred _Grant's Atlas of Anatomy…_ oh, Tyler was teasing him about his preference for long hair. What else had Peter put on that form?

Tyler's grin was a little too broad, obviously happy that he'd thrown Edward a little off his game. "I heard you liked it so much that you only dated girls with long, long hair."

"When I was younger I exclusively dated girls with long dark hair. But I finally learned the important thing is what's inside a woman's head."

The audience's applause saved him. He smiled at the host, wishing he could see Bella's face.

"And who's with you today?"

"My girlfriend, soon to be Doctor Isabella Swan."

Bella waved, blushing a little. Being on TV wasn't her favorite place either.

"Is this the same Bella Swan who saved your life when you went into anaphylactic shock and needed a bunch of Boy Scouts to carry you down a mountain?"

"It was not truly a mountain, but the rest, yes, that's my Bella."

"Maybe she should be up here!"

The audience cheered.

Tyler looked at his screen. "It says here that you're a genius, one of the smartest people in the country. So what you say at home goes?"

"I am one of the smartest people in the country, but I'm not the smartest in our house."

Another cheer from the audience, Tyler giving a genuine smile. "Oh I think you're a very smart man. And let's take a break, we'll be back in a few minutes to play—"

If Edward heard the ridiculous catch phrase again…he might suggest it to Peter as a drinking game.

The cameraman waved, indicating that they weren't taping. Leaning towards him, for the first time Tyler looked completely serious. "Man, this is TV. You got to play with the questions a little, ask the audience, tease it out. America doesn't like a smarty pants, got it?"

All those years of his father trying to get him to play with the other children came back to him. Okay, he'd play.

He could have easily answered the next question, 'The first heart transplant took place in what city?', it was Cape Town as any medical student could have told him, but decided to play along.

"Wow, I kind of wish Dr. Oz was one of my lifelines!" Personally he thought Dr. Oz was a bit of a peacock, but the audience roared their approval. He was surprised when 37% answered correctly.

"Doc, you're doing great. Tell me, what are you going to do with a million dollars?"

This was it. Was he going to lie on National television? Some woman had said she wanted to win so she could travel to Brazil and drink the most expensive coffee in the world. Compared to that, wanting to build a financial foundation for him and Bella seemed much more sensible. Of course some of the money would go to the ambulances. He was sure most of the contestants weren't telling the whole truth, so he fudged a little. "My hometown needs some new ambulances and a new four-wheel drive vehicle for the police department. My mom is having a bake sale. I thought this would be a little faster."

"That's right, a million dollars' worth of cupcakes is a lot of cupcakes!" Tyler liked the answer, as did the audience. "Let's hope Doc wins those ambulances!"

He wanted to correct Tyler. After taxes, most likely it would be about half a million, which would still buy a couple ambulances, but would he now look like a cad for keeping some money back? And if he didn't win the million and kept what he did win he'd look like a buffoon, a greedy buffoon. He should have asked Bella to do it. She was cool under pressure, perfect score on the MCATs, he should have sent her—but then it wouldn't be his winnings. Wasn't that the point, to have something of his own to present to her, like a hunter laying his catch at the feet of his mate? She'd laugh if she heard his thought process. She loved him. He loved her. He didn't need to prove anything, and they'd work as a team for their future. This was all just a game. The important thing, Bella's heart, he'd already won. The next question was up.

 _ **The traditional Maori 'Haka' is:**_

 **A. A stew ...B. A war cry**

 **C. An article of clothing D. A type of canoe**

He'd watched the All Black rugby team version on YouTube numerous times, so instead of answering, he decided to give Tyler the TV he wanted. He assumed the stance, stuck out his tongue and began to shout, beat his chest and stomp as he'd seen the team do. The audience loved it and was up on their feet cheering. Edward finally stopped, panting, arms akimbo and said, "B, final answer."

Tyler wiped his face. "Man, I don't have to tell you that's right. Incredible. Let's hear it!"

Even the lady with the head set seemed satisfied.

"Doc, I wish I could give you a million just for that performance, but I can't. We've got one more question. For a million dollars, here it is!"

 _ **One of the treasures owned by the Library of Congress is the first cookbook written by an American. Published in 1796 it included the first ever published recipes for the Native American ingredients corn and squash including "Johny Cake" and "Squash Pudding." Only four copies are known to exist. The author of this famous volume:**_

 **A. Amelia Simmons ...B. Alis Sampson**

 **C. Agnes Sullivan... D. Audry Salter**

He had no idea, not even the tiniest clue. The names all sounded probable for the time period. He could use all the Ogas memory techniques, he was never going to come up with the answer. He'd visited the Library of Congress with his parents, saw the rough draft of The Declaration of Independence, Washington's Commission as Commander in Chief, the Emancipation Proclamation, he'd seen all of those, but not a single book on cooking.

He'd have to use his remaining lifeline, not as the romantic proposal he'd planned, but as an actual question to the one person in this building who would know the answer. The one who'd researched Early American cookbooks for her authentic apple butter recipe.

"Tyler, I have no idea. I'm going to ask my plus one."

Bella was guided up to the podium. Tyler was all over her. "So, what do you think of this guy?"

"He's amazing." She bumped him with her shoulder. "Although, he does the Haka at home all the time."

That got her a laugh.

Tyler reread the question, but Bella seemed distracted. Edward looked where she kept glancing. Behind the woman with the headphones, the cameraman was standing away from his camera, holding his chest, eyes closed.

She broke into Tyler's recitation halfway through. "The answer is A but that man is having a heart attack!"

She ran from the podium, Edward a step behind as the cameraman fell. Bella was already checking his pulse. Edward yelled for headphone lady to call for an ambulance.

"No pulse!" Bella started compressions.

The other guests in the green room must have been watching as the EMT tore out onto the stage carrying a portable defibrillator. Edward ripped open the man's shirt and attached the pads.

By the time the ambulance arrived his heart had restarted.

Someone brought them bottles of waters, and they sat on the floor leaning against the set wall drinking while Tyler, headphone lady and some people in suits, hands waving, stood in a huddle.

Edward didn't care. He chuckled. "That wasn't the way it was supposed to go."

"Do our lives ever go the way we planned?" She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I wanted to ask you to marry me."

"On TV?"

"I wanted to do something special, something memorable. I wanted a nest egg, something I earned, for us."

"Whatever for? I don't need some public display to believe that you love me or a million-dollar nest egg to prove your worth. And I thought we were doing this for the ambulances."

"I thought that sounded better than saying I wanted a really nice ring to propose to my girlfriend."

"Go ahead, do it."

"Propose? Here?"

"You're already on the ground. You don't even have to kneel."

He looked at her, hair a sweaty wreck, blouse pulled sideways, dust on her skirt from kneeling to save a man's life. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Bella Swan, love of my life and definitely the smartest woman I've ever met- Will you marry me?"

Tyler stepped between them, crouching to be at their level. "I hate to interrupt folks, but the lawyers need me to ask. Is that your final answer?"

They looked at each other and at the same time said:

"Yes!"

.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N** : One (or maybe two) Epis to go. Many thanks to **Cousin Beta** for her hard work reconstructing her notes after **beta-in-training Zoe** chewed them. Thanks to **Nurse Beta** for noticing how much I like certain words!

FYI: I made up the questions used in the game, but the questions on the application come from the real 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?' audition application on their site. Ogo Ogas is a real person, his article is very interesting. The rules and hosts of Millionaire change from year to year, this is my approximation of the game.

Thanks to all the reviewers and readers! You make this fun


End file.
